Pink Champagne
by bellacatbee
Summary: Dean used to know he was straight but since he met Castiel everything's confused. Castiel dresses like a girl but only for his job, Adam's experimenting with makeup and Dean knows this is all the fault of Sam's gender and sexuality course. AU. C/D G/S A/M
1. Chapter 1

_Includes: Crossdressing, homophobia_

Sam sometimes wondered why he'd taken the Gender and Sexuality class. It was an elective and it didn't even have to do with his core subject but it had appealed to him. He found it fascinating. Growing up with his father and Dean hadn't really left a lot of room for anything that was considered unmanly. Dean even sneered at salad as being "girly food." Adam was a bit better, Kate had managed to bring him up with the understanding that men and women were not a separate species (and saw him over enough weekends that she knocked any stupid ideas out of his head) but the more time he spent around Dean the more he seemed to be developing a defensive masculine front he put up in order to deflect his older brother's teasing. Or at least that was how Sam was seeing things since he'd begun taking the class.

He still wasn't sure why he'd picked this exact area to write his end of term paper on. It wasn't as if he couldn't have written it on other topics. _Latent Homosexual Tendencies in Masculine Stereotypes_ had practically been shouting his name at the top of its voice but Sam knew that he'd just end up illustrating that one with points out of his own life and he didn't want to think about the latent homosexual tendencies in his dad and Bobby's fishing trips or any of the stuff Dean did. So he'd ended up picking the question on drag queens instead. It was a pretty interesting subject but he could have done all his research from books really. He didn't need to come down to the Candy Club and get some personal anecdotes from the boys working there but Sam wanted a top mark in the class. Proving that he could do more than sit in the library and read to back up his theory was going to get him that top mark. Admittedly he didn't know what his theory was yet. He'd do the research and then make up his mind.

Still, he didn't want to go to the Candy club on his own. Guys who went there on their own were weird and since Sam wanted to talk to the entertainers he felt it was better to be there with someone. Adam had begged off the moment Sam told him where he was going and he hadn't wanted to push his little brother. That had left Dean because there was no way Sam was asking his dad to come along with him. That was a conversation right there he never wanted to have. Sam had always known how to twist his brother round his little finger and now they were here, sitting in a corner of the Candy club, sipping beers and watching the lovely Gabriella going through her stand-up routine. He knew he was going to owe Dean big for this, especially after some of the jokes about penis size.

Dean couldn't imagine anywhere he'd want to be less than here. There was nowhere on the planet that would have been worse. The comic, well, he was fucking dreadful. Sam hadn't let him bring in a magazine, there was no food to speak of and he was bored. The fact that the place served beer was the only thing in its favour and even if Dean thought it was a bit over-priced, he was willing to deal with that. The alcohol was welcome.

"So when can we leave?" He asked, shifting uneasily. Thank fuck they were at the back, out of sight. Everyone else's eyes, including Sam's, were at the entertainer on stage. Dean was beginning to wonder exactly what was going on in his younger brother's head. Sexuality was fun if it was girls in Busty Asians but this place dealt with a weird, weird fetish and on the way over Dean had considered asking Sam if there was something he wanted to tell him.

Sure, everyone said they were bisexual now, it was almost fashionable, but Sam was tall, handsome, even if he did have kiddy dimples. He wouldn't really ever... no. He wasn't. He wasn't even bi, probably. Just trying to fit in. They'd always tried to fit in. They were certainly better at it than _Gabriella_. That guy was a joke.

Sam sighed and took a swig from his bottle of beer, staring out at the stage rather than at his brother. Dean had been the best of a bad choice but practically since they got out the car he'd been asking if it was time for them to leave yet. They'd only seen two acts and it wasn't even nine o'clock. "Not yet, Dean. I haven't spoken to anyone. I need to get some proper research and as good as this act is, it doesn't really count." Sam thought the comic on stage was brilliant. Most of the jokes were probably flying straight over Dean's head which was a good thing but Sam was recognising a couple of the guys he'd dated in stories Gabriella was telling although with exaggerated affect.

The comic finished her final joke and Sam put down his beer so he could clap. He wondered if he'd need to hang around backstage to be able to talk to any of the performers or if it would be better if he went up to the bar and found someone to ask. There had to be someone about, a manager or someone who could tell him if it was even possible for Sam to talk to them. He knew that some of these places were pretty firm about the line between customer and performer in case patrons started thinking they were getting anything more than the act they saw up on stage.

Gabriella was leaving and the lights dimmed for a moment as the stage was set up for the next act. "Maybe once we've watched this next guy we can go." Sam said to his brother as the next performer was announced. 'Please can we have a big round of applause for the lovely Misha.' The stage was silhouetted in spotlight, a waif like figure standing there in a sequined white dress, hugging a microphone and Sam squinted. "Misha is a guy's name." He said after a moment to no one in general but himself.

Whatever Sam was saying Dean didn't hear. The club erupting into applause and clearly this next act was a popular one. He wasn't sure what the lovely Misha did but considering the response it was probably pole-dancing. Dean risked looking up from his beer just as the first chords of a song filtered through the warm air and he couldn't have torn his eyes away from the stage if he'd wanted to.

Gabriella was too short and too obnoxious for Dean to have taken any shine to, too obviously a man in a wig and heels, but Misha, now Misha was cute, and those big, blue eyes were visible even from the back. Hell, this guy was cuter than some of the girls Dean had dated. He wasn't about to admit that, not where people could hear but in the privacy of his own head, it was okay. He tucked in his chair a bit, ignoring his beer and listened. Sam was always going on about how he never respected people or didn't give them the chance, well, now he was.

"You need to interview this one." Dean told him, leaning over the mutter at Sam as the song progressed.

"Okay." Sam said, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. This was as rapt and attentive as Dean had been to anything all evening that didn't come with a paper label he could peel off. Still at least Dean was taking an interest in his project. Sam could see a silver lining on pretty much anything by this point. He turned his head to look back up to the stage and wondered what it was exactly that Dean was seeing that had him so enrapt. The guy was a bit more convincing than Gabriella, yes but the act as far as Sam was concerned was pretty much an antique. The 60s cut of the dress, the old Dusty Springfield songs. There wasn't anything new here. There wasn't anything terribly exciting here but maybe Dean just appreciated the classics.

"Sure, if we can get him to come back here then we can interview him." Sam said, grabbing a pen from his bag and he clicked the end of it, starting to scribble something down on his napkin. Trust Dean to get them to pick a table at the back. There was no way Sam was going to be able to grab anyone's attention from here. Dean was just frightened about getting seen in a place like this even if Sam kept reminding him that if Dean saw any of his friends here they'd probably be just as embarrassed as Dean and they weren't likely to be here simply because their little brother begged them.

Gabriella was off stage at the bar and getting a drink for himself before moving around the floor to greet one or two of their usual patrons. Nick was at the front, as usual, a glass of scotch-on –the-rocks in hand. Expensive scotch. On the house expensive scotch. Gabriella just sighed to himself, and tried to pretend he hadn't seen Nick or his drink. He'd had that argument with Luci before about the men he invited over but things never changed. There was no point starting the same fight up all over again. Last time he'd ended up wanting to pull his hair out, almost walking out on the club and his brothers and that would never do. Misha would never forgive him.

There were a couple of newbies in tonight and Gabriella knew he would have recognised them if they'd been in before- they weren't exactly hard on the eyes. He moved towards them, smile a little less fixed, trying not to interrupt but brushing one of their shoulder's gently with long painted nails. "You boys enjoying yourselves?" He asked, in Gabriella's slightly higher voice, glad of the drink to sooth his throat.

Sam jumped as the hand brushed his shoulder and he looked up at Gabriella, a smile breaking out across his face. Maybe he wasn't going to have to skulk by the stage door to get those interviews after all. "Yeah! Your set was fantastic. That joke you did about the guy who brags about his penis size, I could really relate to that." Sam said, the words coming out a lot faster than he'd expected them to. "Um, why don't you sit down? I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean. It's our first time here." He said, pushing out one of the seats with his foot for Gabriella to take.

"Um, would you mind if I asked you some questions? I'm a student and I'm doing a paper on cross-dressing for my class." Sam dug his student ID out of his pocket quickly and passed it to Gabriella to prove what he was saying was true. "Oh, and do you think we could talk to Misha when she's finished?"

Dean nodded again, spell not even breaking when he reached for his beer, taking another long swallow. It felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, or maybe he was just thirsty. The heating in the place must have only just kicked in, because it was much, much warmer in here than it had been during Gabriella's set. It was actually, well, comfortable now, and Dean felt he could sit there however long Misha was singing for.

Dean only reacted when the other chair at their table was scraped back over the floor, the sound horrible and distracting as he made a face at Sam, and then at the... man joining their table. He kept his mouth firmly shut though; he didn't need to say anything. Sam could be weird whenever he liked, Dean could ignore him, and so he did, his attention once more back on the stage. Misha was much more interesting and better looking, than Gabriella.

Gabriella didn't seem perturbed though, taking the seat with a grin of gratitude, setting down the bright-green cocktail on the table as he glanced back at the stage too, and then Dean. "Big brother come along for moral support?" He asked, taking the student ID card and giving it a glance. Some guys, on their first trip down to the Candy Club brought a friend, although Gabriella had never heard of someone bringing a brother. Especially the sort of brother who didn't seem all that supportive, although maybe he was reading the vibes pouring off Dean the wrong way. He certainly seemed to be enjoying Misha. "If you think Misha is a cutie, Dean, wait till you meet Luci." Gabriella said, taking the smallest sip from his glass, careful not to smudge the gloss on his lips.

"I'm glad you liked it, Sam. It's just sad how many of us know assholes like that!" Gabriella said, ignoring Dean's snort as the comedian leant back against the chair, hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair out of the way. "I'll ask Misha, but I won't promise anything. She's very shy." And stand-offish, and prudish and desperate to find a 'normal' job- but Gabriella didn't add any of that, instead letting his eyes drift over Sam and his brother again.

"Yeah. They're almost as bad as the 'I'm straight really' guy. The one who always says he'll make the exception just for you." Sam laughed. There were a lot of confused guys in his college. There were a lot of confused guys all over the place. Sam wasn't confused. He was pretty certain he knew what he wanted and college was a great place for experimenting with that. He hoped Dean wasn't listening too closely. His brother could talk about girls till the sun went down but Sam had never felt comfortable bringing up the guys he'd dated with Dean. It was kind of liberating to talk, even if it was just in general terms, to Gabriella about them. "I mean if Misha's shy then that's okay. I'm sure I can get the information I want from someone else." Sam really didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable. He could respect boundaries and if Misha wanted to stay up on the stage and away from the audience then Sam got that.

Gabriella was laughing then, the smile easy and natural, taking another swallow from the cocktail glass, glad that he'd taken the gamble of coming to sit down with a pair of unfamiliar faces. True, one of them wasn't saying much, but Sammy was more than making up for it. Not only was he sort of cute, but he was smart too, and Gabriella wasn't used to meeting intelligent sorts. Maybe he met them more often than he thought but they weren't always being charming and insightful when they were leering. It was a nice change.

"I'll ask Misha," Gabriella offered again, but they had a rule, albeit unwritten. None of them did anything that made them uneasy. They always backed each other up, and if things got out of hand, they had a security firm and the police on speed-dial. They had always been lucky though, nothing had ever really gotten that bad. Gabriella was more than capable of kicking guys out that disrupted them. But these two, Sam and Dean, they seemed okay. And Gabriella was normally fairly good at working out which of their patrons needed a bit of a wide berth. Nick was counted in that group too, although he was a perfectly nice guy (if you ignored the tan lines where the wedding ring had been a few hours before). He was avoided Nick because Luci would have a fit if he thought Gabriella was trying to get in on that action.

"This paper of yours, Sammy, I can call you Sammy, can't I? Well, this paper of yours, what's it all about?"

"Uh, you can call me Sammy but my name is Sam." Sam said, leaning in a little closer to Gabriella. "It's about social constructs of gender and the way in which people deconstruct them and play with them. I wanted to ask some personal questions but you can tell me no to anything. I don't mind and we can use your stage name if you'd rather." He dug in his bag again, pulling out his notepad and flipped it open, writing 'Gabriella' at the top. "Uh, so, do you want to tell me your other name, your, er, real name?"

"And Dean? He's here because I thought a guy alone asking questions would come off as creepy." Sam said, glancing at Dean again and he didn't want Gabriella getting the wrong impression. Sam was just here because he had his paper to write. He wouldn't have come to the Candy Club normally and while he'd had fun he probably wouldn't come back. It wasn't his sort of scene.

The idea of personal questions didn't bother him too much, because as a comedian there were very few taboo topics, and Gabriella doubted Sammy could throw anything out there that was too shocking. And he'd never been interviewed like this before, it was sort of exciting. But he dropped the high, false voice and answered in his own. "My real name? I'm Bond. James Bond. No, of course I'm not. I'm far sexier. But if I tell you my real name, you'll realise how completely unimaginative I am." He warned, with another grin, before easily giving the information up. "Gabriel. I know, I know. But it was meant to be a stop-gap, and then... things took off and it was too late to change it to something else."

Sam laughed, scribbling down the reply. "Gabriel. I should have guessed but I suppose I wasn't expecting that lack of subtlety, no. Okay, next question, you're going to think I'm really invasive and I'm sorry, how would you define your sexuality?" Sam had read up a lot on men and the impulse to wear women's clothing. Most of the guys had said were straight but Sam did wonder about that. The Candy Club seemed an unofficial gay hang out and there was a lot of overlap between drag queens and the gay community. He wondered if being gay or at least not heterosexual made you more likely to play with gender roles since you'd already circumvented them to some extent by being interested in your own sex rather than the opposite one.

"And, uh, is cross-dressing something that you do simply for work or is it part of your life outside of the club?" He asked, wondering if Gabriel had been drawn to this type of work because it embraced something inside of him that otherwise he hadn't had avenues to explore or if this was a job to him and nothing more.

Gabriel clearly didn't think the question was invasive, laughing and reaching out to pat Sam's hand. "I've been asked much worse than that, Sammy. Trust me, I've been playing this game awhile, not much shocks me anymore." And he drained the cocktail glass then, pushing it out of their way. "I guess you'd say I'm bisexual. I like my girls just as much as I like my guys. But my last relationship was with a girl." Ah, Kali. Now she had been an eye-opener. "But that was over a long while ago." He added, waving a hand to dismiss those thoughts. He and Kali had hardly lived up to any gender norms.

"The dressing up? It's a bit of fun, really, isn't it? I mean it's a bit of an opportunity to wear something a little... well, a lot more outrageous than what you might wear to an office, let's say. And it gets some laughs. Once you're used to it, it's no different from wearing anything else and besides these" he indicated his long, clearly-false nails by making claws in the air, "are great for getting into tricky candy wrappers. But I don't wear this sort of thing at home. Or stockings or the rest of it," He added, with a grin, "I don't think most women do, either. That or they can't because their husbands are wearing them."

"Right." Sam muttered, tongue peeking out between his lips as he scribbled down the answers. He was a little surprised to find out that Gabriel's most recent partner had been a girl but that was, he supposed, just prejudice on his part. Even so she must have been open minded not to worry about her boyfriend working here or maybe that was why they'd broken up. Sam wasn't going to pry. He didn't need to know that for his project. Wanting to know about Gabriel's personal life was just curiosity. "Um, do you mind if I call you Gabriel or do you want me to call you Gabriella?" Sam asked. It was best if he just went with what he was told.

"Gabriel's fine. Or Gabe. I'm okay with _Hey handsome_ too, you know, if you feel the urge." He grinned, watching Sam scribble on the paper. His answers surely hadn't been all that interesting, had they? There hadn't been any punch lines, no witty commentary, nothing like that at all. But maybe Sam was happy with it anyway. Maybe Sam would come back tomorrow night, minus the brother, and maybe they could have a drink or two. Gabriel wouldn't mind that at all.

Sam laughed again, scribbling furiously. He wanted to talk to Gabriel more but those were his questions. He'd just wanted to add some colour to his paper with personal anecdotes from people in the business and he now he wasn't sure how to pad any further. The set on the stage was finishing, people were clapping and Sam shot Gabriel an apologetic look. "That's all my questions. Could you ask Misha is she'd talk to us, please?"

Clapping indicated that Misha's set was over and as he'd promised to ask on Sam's behalf. Gabriel got to his feet, trying to be gracious, trying not to act like he'd really rather stay, even if he had no good reason. He offered the pair a bright smile, bowing his head. Dean was too busy clapping for Misha to notice, and he probably didn't care. "I'll have the bar send you over a couple more beers, on the house." He said, as he began to move away, "It was nice to meet you, Sammy. And Dean."

"That's really nice of you and it's Sam!" Sam called after the retreating figure. He nudged his brother, grinning at him. "See, I told you no one here would bite." And maybe they'd get to talk to Misha next and Dean would lighten up a little bit. If he didn't then there was still the prospect of free beer which was more than enough to make Dean happy normally.

Gabriel moved to the bar, getting one of the high-heel wearing bar staff to send over another pair of bottles, before heading back stage. Misha, or rather, Castiel, was already there, and Gabriel wanted to catch him before he started removing the make-up or that beautiful white dress. "One last request, kiddo." Gabriel said, smiling gently at him. "There's a student sat at the back, drinking beer with his brother. His name's Sammy. He wants to ask you some questions. Harmless guys doing a paper. They asked me if you'd speak to them."

And it was probably best not to mention at that point how hard Dean had been clapping after Misha's set.

Castiel really just wanted to get off the stage now. His shoes hurt. He knew he should probably have tried wearing them in more before getting up to do a set in them but he don't want to go walking round his apartment in heels. He was hardly even aware of the applause as he made his way backstage. Gabriel appeared at his elbow and Castiel nearly jumped out of his skin. "Gabriel." He moaned. He knew that Gabriel and Lucifer thought mingling with the patrons was a good idea. They said it create a fun atmosphere. Castiel thought it just gave creeps more of a chance to try and touch him up.

"Fine." He muttered. "But then I'm going home. And don't be too far away, okay?" He didn't want to cause any scenes and if Gabriel had already talked to these guys and thought they were legitimate then he couldn't really ignore his brother's request. The table was at the back of the club though and that meant skirting round the sides because there was no way Castiel was walking passed all those tables. Luci might not mind getting pinched but Castiel minded a lot.

"Hi." He said, reaching the table. "Gabriella sent me over. Sammy and Dean, right?" He asked, wanting to make sure he was in the right place before he sat down. "I'm Misha."

Dean was up on his feet as soon as the creature in white reached their table. He didn't pull the chivalry act, not really, but he knew the ropes. And well, this close, Misha was even more beautiful; those blue eyes and the dark hair that framed her face so artfully. Misha was clearly tired, and Dean could understand that- up there on stage, singing for everyone, well, that was hard, and he wanted to put Misha at ease.

"Please, sit down." He said, gesturing to the chair that Gabriella or whatever his name had been had vacated. Misha was a much more welcome addition to the table. "I'm Dean, this is Sam. He's the one doing all the smart stuff. I'm just riding shot-gun tonight." He said, offering a smile and settling down himself then, back into the chair, his fingers catching a beer bottle because he needed something to fidget with. "I thought you were really great up there, by the way." He added, and then realised he'd completely monopolised the singer so far, and probably seemed really creepy too, so he cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish and took a swig from the bottle, shutting up so Sam could get on with what he was meant to be doing.

Manners were a nice thing. Castiel didn't see too many people with manners around. He sat down in the seat that Dean had pushed out for him and smiled at the man. He was nervous and a bit over enthusiastic but he hadn't done anything to cause Castiel to be frightened of him yet. There were candles on all the tables, Luci's idea to make everything seem more intimate and keep the lighting costs down and Dean looked good in the candle light. It fell across his face, highlighting green eyes and a chiselled jaw and hiding anything unsavoury. "Thank you."

Sam cleared his throat. He didn't even feel like he was one of the people at the table anymore. "So I'm sure Gabriella explained that I'm researching a paper." He said, jumping straight in. He wasn't so nervous now he'd spoken to Gabriella-Gabriel and tried out his questions. "Misha is your stage name, right? Do you mind telling me your real name?"

Castiel fidgeted nervously, glancing over his shoulder just to check that Gabriel was there. He didn't like giving out his name. It made it too likely that someone would track him down in his life outside the club but he also hated people calling him Misha. It made him wince every time. "I'd rather you didn't use it in your paper but my name is Castiel. Cas." He said softly, reaching to push the hair from his face and tuck it neatly behind his ear.

"Cool." Sam agreed, making a note of that. "And how would you define your sexuality?" He looked up in time to catch Castiel's whole face flooding red. "You don't have to answer any of the questions you're not comfortable with." He hurried to reassure him, feeling a little bad for just assuming that everyone would be okay with his questions. Not everyone was an extravert.

"Gay." Castiel said after a moment, looking down at the table. "And this is just a job. I don't find dressing up like this sexually gratifying."

As Sam launched into boring-school-talk Dean rolled his eyes. From what little he'd caught, Sam had at least chatted with the other one. He was just badgering Misha- no, Cas- for answers and that just wasn't fair. Cas was taking time out of his evening and Sam just didn't seem very grateful at all. And Cas must have been nervous because Dean saw him, looking back towards where Gabriella or Gabriel or whatever was stood, the other drag-queen offering Cas a thumbs up in support. Sam was not making this very enjoyable at all.

"Er, Cas?" He said, interrupting as the young man blushed. He was a guy, yeah, Dean got that, and he wasn't gay and he wasn't going to ever be gay but he wasn't a cave man. Cas seemed nice. There were probably a lot of guys that really dug the whole girls-clothes things. Not Dean. No one was going to leave the club thinking Dean Winchester was interested in guys, not even cute ones with cute hair-cuts and the biggest, bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. "I've only ever done karaoke so it's not the same but I was pretty thirsty afterwards... Can I get you a bottle of water or something?" He asked. Not booze. He wasn't going to offer to get booze because Castiel would think Dean was hitting on him. And an unopened bottle couldn't be spiked or anything. Play it safe, seem normal, nice, and put the guy at ease before Sam asked any more embarrassing questions.

"Hmm," Castiel glanced at Dean again, having been paying more attention to Sam since he was the one with the list of embarrassing questions. Hadn't Gabriel said these guys were harmless? Clearly he and Gabriel had a very different definition of harmless. "Yes, I wouldn't mind a drink." He agreed raising his hand slightly to touch his throat. It was a little sore. He'd picked certain songs because they fitted his range better but after about five of them in a row a drink would have been very welcome. A bottle of water wasn't going to be tampered with and he knew that Gabriel would watch the man just to make sure.

Sam waited for his brother to leave before pressing forward, abandoning his questions now because there was something about the way that Castiel answered that made him eager to dig a little deeper. "So why do you work here then? You don't seem all that enthusiastic if you don't mind me saying."

Castiel paused for a moment, glancing back over at Dean and at Gabriel, using the time to compose what he was going to say in his head. "I work here because my brothers asked me. I suppose you could say it's a family business and I didn't have anywhere else to go. The money is good but it's not my sort of place, not really." Gabriel and Lucifer looked after him though, in their own strange way. It was better than drifting through life without a job to put his name to although how he was ever going to get out of here now he didn't know. What place would employ him with a reference from one of his brothers and a CV that said he'd been a female impersonator? Was that really something employers were looking for?

Dean was back with the water only a few minutes later, well aware that Gabriel had also stepped up to the bar at the same time, under the guise of getting another of those bright green cocktails but actually keeping an eye on Dean. He would have said that was a little over-protective but he made sure he ordered a bottled water loud and clear before he paid for it, met Gabriel's gaze and headed back to the table. He didn't like not being trusted. He knew he wasn't always trustworthy, but when he was being a good guy- and he wasn't a schmuck like some of the guys in here probably were- he didn't want people expecting the worst from him.

He put the bottle carefully down on the table by Cas' elbow, offering him a grin as he sat back down himself, happily taking another swallow of his beer. "Working with family is always tough," He agreed, because the Winchesters knew all about that. He'd worked with his Dad and Bobby since he could stand by himself, messing about in cars and then actually learning how to fix them. He'd enjoyed it, for the most part, but if they had a fight, he couldn't leave it at work and forget about it. It came home with him; it rode back in the car with him. It continued through dinner. He guessed though that working here was a lot tougher than working in an auto shop.

"What would you rather do, than work here?" Dean asked, taking over again but he couldn't help it. "You sing fantastically, would you want to do that somewhere else? I mean, I fix cars with my dad and Bobby, but Sam isn't in to that. Hence the college work. But that's not for me."

"Um," Castiel paused, opening the bottle of water and taking a sip as he thought about where he'd rather be. There wasn't really very much he thought he was good at. He was only good at singing because it had been trained into him. "I guess I'd make a good secretary." He said after moment's pause. "I've got neat handwriting." He could take notes. "I do the clubs accounts. I'm good with numbers. Maybe something like that." Something quiet and in the backroom and away from the spotlight. That was really what Castiel wanted. Maybe when his brothers were a bit more established and they could hire someone to work for them then he could just stay in the back office like he'd always wanted to. It was always only meant to be a part time thing.

"Yeah." Sam said, chewing on his pen now. He wasn't getting any further with his research like this and Dean just seemed happy to play twenty questions with Castiel rather than let Sam get on with it. "I'm going to go talk to Gabriel." He said, pushing his chair back and leaving them to it. Trust Dean to end up hitting on a guy in a dress. Sam could admit that Castiel was pretty enough but he doubted Dean would like him out of that dress and with the make-up off. When he remembered Castiel was actually a dude then it wouldn't be so good. He glanced back just for a second. Still, Castiel didn't seem the type to do anything to get himself hurt. He seemed to play his cards close to his chest.

Castiel watched Sam leave, a little perplexed. "Oh. I guess I'm all yours then, Dean." He said with a slight smile. He liked Dean more out of the two of them. "So you're not in college?" He said softly. "Because I promised Gabriel I'd come over and talk to a guy doing a paper as a favour. I am rather tired." He didn't want to run out on Dean and he was nice but Castiel's feet were aching. He'd kick his shoes off under the table if he wouldn't then need to try and find them again.

Now that sounded good. Misha, Cas, was all his, they could talk and laugh and maybe Dean could get her a beer and they'd relax, it'd be great. Wherever Sam had disappeared to, well, he was a big boy now, he could handle it himself. Dean could handle everything over here perfectly, thank you. But then... then it all came crashing down around his ears. And the smile he'd been wearing faded.

"Oh, no, that's okay, I understand, it must take a lot out of you." He said, knowing he was being brushed off. "Thanks for helping though. I know Sam appreciates it. I do too. It was really nice to meet you and... Well, I guess I won't try and take up more of your time." No matter how much he'd like to. And he couldn't even offer Cas a ride home either because he was Sam's lift too and that would be creepy and probably mean that they'd never see each other again. And man, that sucked.

Castiel frowned. He hadn't meant to sound as if he was trying to excuse himself. He was just exhausted after his set but maybe he could find a little bit more strength if he dug down deep enough and he'd stay there a bit longer for Dean. He slipped his shoes off anyway and wiggled his toes, so glad to get away from that crushing pain for a second or so. "No. I'm being rude. Ignore me."

"You weren't rude. I was just enjoying your company." Dean told him. And that was true. He'd felt more than a little disappointed when it seemed Misha was going to leave. And they'd hardly talked at all. "And I appreciate you staying late. But don't stay too late on my account, alright?" He said.

"No, it's fine." Castiel promised him. He took another sip of the water and then bit his lip, wondering if he could share the next thing with Dean but nothing yet had made him wary of the man. "If I want to go home I've only got to go upstairs. I live above the club. Saves on bills and stuff, you know? And I can never be late for work." He grinned at the old joke. Even if the three of them lived upstairs Gabriel always managed to be late to everything. "So, what did you think of the show? Are you going to come back?" He hoped Dean would. He seemed nice, not like a lot of the guys they got in.

Dean couldn't help smile, elbow on the table and his chin in hand. "I guess that would be really, really useful," He agreed, "And I mean, you're not far from the rest of the city and everything either, are you? I'd hate to imagine what the rent would be here. We've only got a little place, really little and that breaks my heart every time I sign off half my pay-cheque." He reached for the bottle again- most of it was gone now but he didn't want to get up for another, he didn't want to leave Misha.

"The show? Oh, the show! I really liked your bit. I..." He paused, glancing back towards the bar, to that terrible pink sequined dress. He didn't get what had been so funny about half the stuff the comic had said but Sam seemed to think it was hilarious. "Er, I think the comedy was a bit of an acquired taste?" He said, not wanting to seem like a complete idiot. Misha probably heard the same material every night and probably understood all the jokes. Even the one about the guy bragging about his cock. Dean just didn't get what was funny about that one at all. He stopped then, because Misha was saying something really, really, really worth listening to.

Was that? That was! It was totally an I want to see you again line! "Well, Sammy will probably be here a few more times while he's doing this paper and I'll be coming with him. So yes, I'll be coming back. I'd like to see you sing again."

"I know what you mean. It's all Gabriel's stuff. He loves jokes like that, anything filled with innuendo." Castiel shuddered slightly. Gabriel was good at what he did but that didn't mean Castiel didn't find it distasteful and off-colour. "And you have to be careful what you say around him or he'll start building an act based on it. He used to have a joke in there about my first boyfriend but I made him take it out. It was so embarrassing." And about the fact that Castiel's first boyfriend had been his cousin Balthazar but when you lived in the middle of nowhere there wasn't much choice. Castiel died of shame every time Gabriel told that story even if he'd changed it to make it sound as if it was about himself and not his little brother.

Dean offered Misha a little supportive smile. "Family are bad enough when they talk about your dates at dinner, I guess it's a thousand times worse when it's on a stage." He shook his head, unable to imagine why someone would want to embarrass and upset such a pretty thing. Misha was beautiful, those eyes, that mouth, the gorgeous jaw and those cheeks. Dean couldn't help but like Misha, the whole package, not just those looks, but the careful way words were chosen. Most people would just talk and talk and never really think about what they were saying, never engaging their brain as they chattered away. But everything Misha said, it had weight, it was important. Otherwise it wouldn't have been said at all.

"You should sit up front next time." He said brightly. "Honestly, Gabriel won't bite. Luci might but just show him that you haven't got a wedding ring and he'll back off." He glanced down at Dean's hands just to check there was no ring there. His hands were all clear of tell-tell tan lines and Castiel smiled. "It'd be nice to see a friendly face out here."

"Next time? Well, okay. Next time I'll sit up front, if that's what you'd like." Right up front no one could see his face either, could they? And if it made Cas smile like that, he could do it. Anything for that smile and to see those blue eyes light up.

"Mmhmm, we save special seats." Castiel said. Mostly for the men Luci liked it had to be said but he could reserve a seat for Dean. "Just call and when you're booking tell them I said you should be up front. Say Cas told you, not Misha. Some guys try to get places using our stage names. Whoever answers will know you're legitimate because you know my name."

"Okay, I'll do that." He said, and he actually meant it too. He wanted to come back and he wanted to hear Cas sing again, wanted to buy another drink and sit and talk and then maybe both of them could go pick up some dinner or something. They could, well, hang out, have some fun. If there were any good films on, maybe they could catch one. It'd be good. "When? I mean, when would you like me to come back? My evenings are sort of unstructured so... any time is good for me."

He tilted his head a little to the side, considering what Dean said. "I don't mind. You can come back whenever you like. We're busy on Fridays and Saturdays. We're closed on Sunday." He thought about it. Most of Luci's men friends came on the weekdays when they could pretend they were staying late at the office. "Come whenever you like. I'm always here. I never have time off."

"Well, at least you're saving on rent. And sooner or later they have to let you take some time off. I don't know, maybe you should just go have a good vacation? Take off for a couple of weeks?" Dean had done that once, although he'd not had savings. He'd taken the car and driven up to the mountains and 'borrowed' an empty cabin for a week and he'd had a great time. Although when he'd come back he didn't feel like he'd really had a break at all.

A vacation? It sounded good but he should just save up for somewhere of his own. Somewhere that didn't have Lucifer bringing men home at all hours and Gabriel's stockings drying on the radiator. In fact somewhere were there weren't men wearing women's clothing. "I could take a holiday." He mused, "But I'd need someone to cover for me. Can you sing, Dean?" He glanced up at the man and then smiled. "I am teasing."

"Can I sing?" Dean repeated, and then as it became clear Misha was joking, Dean relaxed, laughing too. "Only Johnny Cash. Nothing else, sorry." He explained, grinning and feeling that easiness rush back around them. He felt good, the beer warm in his stomach, Misha beautiful and gentle and fun opposite him, the noises of the club around them just lulling him. This was good, this could last forever.

"So... I'll call and book a seat up front for Thursday then. I'd like to talk to you more and if it's busy and noisy, I guess we won't get much chance." Dean said after a second of thought. And Thursday was a good night for films and restaurants normally- not too busy either, but there was always a good buzz and besides, he would get paid on Wednesday. He could impress Misha a bit, dress a bit smarter.

"I'd like to talk with you too, Dean." Castiel said quietly. Maybe they could come and sit out here like this again only if they were up front then in all likelihood they'd hardly be able to hear each other talk. He fished his shoes out from under the table, considering for a moment just carrying them but he didn't fancy walking back across the floor in only his stockinged feet. He placed the shoes down carefully and tried not to wince as he forced his feet back into them. It was only a short distance to hobble to the backstage now. He stood up, swaying unsteadily for a moment and reached for Dean's shoulder to steady himself.

"Whoa!" Dean said, watching Misha stumble slightly and catching the thin creature by the hip, moving his hand to Misha's elbow as soon as he was certain that falling wasn't a possibility, sliding out of his chair. "You are tired, aren't you?" He said gently, and then glanced over to the bar where Sam was being fawned over by the comic in the horrible pink dress. He didn't want to shout, but someone was going to have to make sure Misha was okay. Dean didn't really want to say goodnight now, but if he had to, he could man up and do it. He just didn't want to say goodnight and worry that Misha would fall on the way upstairs.

"Shall I get Gabriella or...?" He began, wondering if Sam and his friend would even hear if Dean shouted, or if he did shout, if everyone in the club would hear. He didn't want to embarrass Misha and he didn't want people looking at him either for that matter. Someone was bound to get the wrong end of the stick.

"No, it's the shoes." Castiel said, frowning down at them. They were just a bit too small and pinching his feet. They had probably fallen off the back of a truck somewhere since Gabriel had got them for him. He knew they were knock-offs and shoddy and they'd probably fall apart in three weeks but at the moment they were giving him blisters and he wanted them off. They were also stupidly high and once he was standing up in them he was practically towering over Dean which he didn't really like. He guessed if he'd kicked them off again and stood face to face with the man he would have been just a little shorter than Dean. He would have tucked in just nicely against Dean's shoulder. He skirted back away from Dean and back away from that thought.

"No, it's fine." He said quickly, brushing his hands down the front of his dress, trying to brush off the feeling of Dean's hand on his hip. "I just need to go and get all of this off!" He gestured to himself, to the make-up and the dress and everything else that just made this completely uncomfortable for him.

Dean stepped back slightly, Misha clearly uneasy with the touch, even though Dean hadn't meant it. He'd just wanted to stop an accident. "Sorry." He breathed, and then offered the singer a small smile, "I didn't think they looked that comfortable. You should get them to splash out and get you a better pair. You deserve that much."

And then his shifted, realising this was good night. Misha was tired, wanting desperately leave, politely yes, but leave all the same. "Well, I'll let you go home, I guess?" Dean said, trying to smile and be polite too, even if he didn't want to say goodbye. But it was only fair. He'd taken a lot of the singer's time up that night and who couldn't blame Misha for wanting to go.

"I hope you have a really nice evening. I really enjoyed meeting you. And I'll be over, Thursday. But I think I have to peel my brother away from the bar."

"Well," Castiel said, peering passed Dean to the two at the bar. "If your brother orders a few more drinks I think maybe we can afford to start spending a bit more on the wardrobe department." He smiled at Dean then, just to show him he was joking again. If people did order more of the cocktails then they'd start to do more than break even. Once they had the money to splash out then Castiel was getting heels with a comfortable padded sole. No, he reminded himself, once they were breaking even he was going back to being the accountant and Misha was going back into the box and not coming out again.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired, Dean." He said softly, "But do come back Thursday. I'll try and be a bit more awake." He'd have a lay in whatever Gabriel or Lucifer had to say on the subject because it wasn't as if either of them was up at the crack of dawn. He'd mainline coffee even though Lucifer complained that it made Castiel's voice all croaky. He'd take a painkiller before he put his shoes on so he couldn't feel them as much. He'd do something so he didn't seem so rude when Dean came back. "I'll see you then." He said, waving and turning then to totter away from Dean, holding his hands out a little to balance himself. How women walked in these things he didn't know but then again most of them probably weren't trying to find the highest pair of heels they could and jam their oversized feet into them.

He got backstage and collapsed, kicking off the shoes and reaching down to rub at his feet. It was certainly a night for a bath even if Lucifer did shout at him for using all the hot water.

Gabriel was still at the bar, but on a stool now, turned to face the little table at the back, sipping his drink through a straw, one leg folded over the other, pink sequins glittering in the darkness, a length of leg revealed. He was watching them like a hawk, and he was more than a little surprised when Sammy got up, leaving Castiel and Dean alone. And tall, dark and handsome was heading this way now, looking more than a little frustrated. "Your brother not fetch you a drink or are you playing musical chairs?" Gabriella called, beckoning the man over and tapping the neighbouring cushioned stool with those talon-like false nails. "Come tell Auntie all about it."

"Auntie? None of my aunties dress like you." Sam said, raising an eyebrow but he sat down on the barstool that Gabriel had been tapping. "No, I'm just not getting too far. Dean keeps taking over." Which was odd enough in its own way. Sam sighed and leant against the bar, looking over Gabriel again. "I'm starting to question just how straight my brother is. He's been completely taken with Cas - uh, Misha - all night."

Gabriel laughed heartily at that, carefully setting his glass down on his knee to steady it. "Really? I can give them some beauty tips, if you like." He offered, preening and patting his equally outrageous hair, still not completely able to maintain a straight face. But then his expression changed to one of disbelief, glancing back at the table again, where Cas was removing his shoes. Getting comfortable, hm? It would take Cas at least ten minutes to get those shoes on again, so clearly he was intending to sit and talk to Dean for a little while longer yet.

"Your brother is straight, is he?" Gabriel asked, more than a little confused. Dean had said very little to him, grunted more than anything, but Gabriel had seen the way he'd looked over at Misha. "Oh. Oh. Your brother knows that we're all in drag, right?"

Sam tried to picture Ellen, who was the closest thing he had to an aunt, in the sort of makeup Gabriel had on and it just wasn't happening. His mind rebelled against the very idea of it. He shook his head, grinning at Gabriel. "Nah, I'll pass on those make-up tips."

He followed Gabriel's gaze and sighed. "Yeah, I think he knows that on some level but on another level he's having a lot of fun fooling himself right now." He turned back to the back and ordered a beer before considering and changing his order to a cocktail. It wasn't like Dean would be over to find him any time soon. "He's your brother right? Misha, I mean Castiel?" He said quietly. "I'd just...not want him getting his hopes up. I mean I know he's probably just being nice to Dean but Dean's not...he doesn't swing that way."

Gabriel laughed, so much more interested in his current company than what was happening at the table with Castiel and Dean, if truth be told. Luci and Castiel normally received most of the attention going, and while it wasn't usually terribly pleasant attention, Gabriel didn't mind having one rather nice guy to talk to once in a while. And the fact that the guy was here writing a paper for his college course, and ordering a cocktail, and making Gabriel laugh well, that none of that set off any alarms. "So, what's your poison?" He asked, watching the bar staff beginning to get the bits and pieces together. He hadn't thought of Sam as anything but a beer drinker, but tonight was so far full of nice surprises.

"Don't laugh." Sam said, glance at Gabriel. "But it's an appletini. I just think the taste nice." A bit on the sharp, sour side and Sam could get behind that taste. "My ex-girlfriend Ruby used to drink them all the time. It's the only thing about her I'm all that comfortable keeping around if I'm honest." Sam and Ruby hadn't been good for each other. He'd thought she was cool and the things she'd suggested had also been exciting and then there'd been the drugs and everyone experimented in college, didn't they? When he'd got clean Ruby suddenly didn't seem so hot any more. She'd dropped out eventually and Sam just kept his head down and got on with his work.

Gabriel nodded, listening and watching Sam as he spoke. There was clearly a lot more to that story than Sam was telling, that was evident from the look on his face and the way his eyes seemed to cloud for a moment, lost in memory. Oh god, didn't they all have relationships like that? Gabriel had. Kali and he had been like that. Poisonous, almost, at the end, although when it started he'd thought about how cool it was, how hot it was and the things she'd introduced him to. But it was the shouting and the manipulation and the rest of it that had been all wrong. "I know where you're coming from. Sometimes it's best just to take the good things and run." He agreed, a little rueful smile tugging at his lips.

"Cas is my brother. But don't worry. He's just being nice. He's not interested in your brother." Why would he be? He avoided talking to most of their patrons; he disliked the ones that showed him any interest usually. And besides, Castiel might say he was gay, but Gabriel thought of him as more of an asexual, without any real interest in sex at all. Not like Luci and not like him. Gabriel had a very healthy appetite for sex. "But if you're only dropping by for tonight, they won't see each other again, will they? No harm, no foul."

"Yeah." Sam said, glancing back again. "Dean's not interested either. Not really. I think in his head anyone in a dress is automatically a girl." The appletini arrived and Sam forgot all about his brother. He picked up the drink and took a quick sip. "Okay and now I get why you're charging so much for these. They're great." He shot Gabriel another grin. "Just make sure I stick to one, okay? Or I'll blow my whole budget." He took another sip, mulling over what Gabriel had said. "I might come back. Dean probably won't but I might, just to get a bit more information for my paper."

"Sammy- are you driving, or your brother?" Gabriel asked, and gestured to the barmen, "If Sammy's not the driver the rest of his drinks are on my tab."

Sam swallowed his mouthful. "Dean's driving. Dean always drives. The only time he'd ever let me drive is if he was dying." He smiled ruefully, shaking his head at the thought. Dean loved that car more than Sam thought he'd ever loved a person. Whenever something went south for him he'd be out in the garage at all hours, fixing it up or washing it even when it didn't need it. If Dean showed people half the consideration he showed his car he might get a bit further with them, Sam thought. He was shocked by Gabriel's offer. "No way. I can't accept that, Gabriel." He said, privately unable to believe his luck. He wasn't going to order anything expensive but he'd treat himself to another beer after he finished this drink. "That's way too nice of you."

"Yes way." Gabriel was laughing, smiling a little again, a little more flirtatious than he'd ever let himself be normally, but since his set he's had three cocktails, and that was much more than he'd usual have in a night. He shifted a little closer, on the edge of his stool now. "You work really hard. And you're nice. Sometimes nice things happen to nice people. So there, have another drink. As long as you don't have lectures in the morning which you miss because of me, we're all good." Gabe told him. The lighting was better here, up at the bar, and he could see the dimples in Sam's cheeks, feeling himself melt slightly. God. This was the first nice, handsome guy he'd met in ages, and he was dressed... well, in a pink sequinned dress and a big wig and he must have looked a state. He never hated what he did, but sometimes, sometimes...

"I'd like to see you back here. I mean, if you're able to make it or if you have more questions. Call and tell them Gabe invited you, they'll set you up near the front and you can tell me what you think of my new set." He said, with a smile, turning to give all his attention to Sam, unable to help himself.

"You've got a new set?" Sam asked, frowning a little because he'd thought Gabriel's set he'd run that night was great but then he didn't know how long Gabriel had been doing those lines and maybe he was bored of it. "What's it about?" He asked. The current set about bad boyfriends had rung a few bells for Sam and it seemed to go down well with the rest of the club. "I'm not sure you want me offering a critique. I just laugh at things that are funny." He said, grinning.

"That's the point! After twenty drafts, nothing is funny anymore. So I need you. It'll be a bit of the old stuff, a few new jokes. Not completely new, but you can't just do the same act for two weeks straight here. Regulars don't enjoy it much if they've already heard the jokes." He explained, and it was true. "I haven't got it all worked out yet. Considering making a fresh attempt at a guy-hit-on-me-because-he-thought-I-was-a-girl stuff." He mused. He honestly hadn't really thought much on a new set, he was just trying to impress Sam.

"Yes, I guess that must be hard. You're not like a travelling comic," Sam said thoughtfully. Gabriel wasn't going from place to place, getting a new crowd every night. There'd be different people in throughout the week but there'd be a crowd of regulars he'd play to as well and in the end people had to shake things up a little. Things could get old fast if you did them over and over again. "I'm glad I got to see the act before you changed it. I liked it." He took another sip of his drink and pulled a face. "That's kind of breaking the forth wall isn't it? I mean if you're going the act as Gabriella but you're telling them that you're really a guy in a dress. Very meta." He might be getting a little drunk. The cocktail was too easy to drink. That was the problem with cocktails, you could never tell how much alcohol was in them.

Gabriel paused, head tipping to one side as he considered what Sam had said, and then he sighed. "No, you're right. Can't do that. Although I could turn that on its head and make it a joke about a guy hitting on Gabriella because he thought she was a man in a dress. But that probably cuts too close to the bone in here. Dammit." He laughed anyway through, leaning on the bar now and gently brushing his fingers over Sam's arm, stroking through the fabric of his shirt, almost unaware of what he was doing. "Maybe I'll just expand on the theme of ex's. Start talking about the kinky weird shit they get us into."

"I think meta is pretty cool but I guess that not really what people are coming for." Sam agreed. He glanced down at where Gabriel's fingers trailed over his arm, more worried about the fact that the stick on nails he had could probably rip straight through Sam's shirt than concerned about the touching in general. "I'm not really kinky." He said, thinking back through his exes. "Ruby had this thing for blood and knives but that kind of freaks me out. I don't know, maybe it's a vampire thing. Everyone likes vampires now." He stared forlornly at his drink. It was nearly finished.

"That stuff is creepy." Gabriel agreed with a faint shiver, not liking that idea at all or the images it forced into his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of a little light bondage, handcuffs, blindfolds, spankings. Tamer stuff." He murmured, and gestured for another pair of drinks to be made up. He was thirsty too, after all. "But vampires? Don't see it myself. Always preferred cowboys. You know, dusty, mucky, travelling from place to place, being the hero that no one appreciates."

"Good list." Sam agreed, leaning into the bar just slightly to signal that he'd like another appletini. "Like I said, I'm not kinky but my class at school is really eye-opening. I'm worried Dean's going to take a look at my search history one day and have a fit. I'm not watching porn, I swear, but some of the article titles in these journals I read sound like porn. I think academics are just filthy really." And they liked their in-jokes as much as anyone else. Being an academic didn't dry up your enjoyment of smutty humour. "Yeah, I don't get the vampire thing. They're so…so undead, you know?" Sam searched for another adjective and then gave up. "Like zombies. Some people are into all that dead stuff. Cowboys make sense though; they're like the original rebels the way Hollywood writes them." Actual authentic cowboys were not like Gabriel was describing but they were just talking about fantasies so Sam figured he could let the history lesson go for the time being.

Gabriel chuckled, an honest-to-god chuckle, not the more feminine laugh he used on stage or the far more perverted noises of amusement that accompanied a wriggle of Gabriella's eyebrows. "I believe you, but thousands wouldn't, Sammy." He replied to the comment about porn, "Unnatural acts and perfectly normal and natural, no matter what big brother says. He's probably watching worse." And that might of been true, although Gabriel really didn't' want to think too long or too hard on that one, grinning as more drinks, on pink and black napkins, were slid towards them. "And you'll find the only hot undead creatures are werewolves. I could be ravaged by one of those any day." And that accompanied another pleased noise before Gabriel took up his drink.

"So, you haven't told me yet what you hope to be doing with this smutty degree of yours. Do you want to be a pervy professor?" He asked, looking the young man over again. Sammy didn't look like he was destined for anything particular- some people just looked like certain things- CEOs, mechanics, and teachers. He couldn't place Sammy. Then again, unless he was in his outfit, most people probably wouldn't have guessed what Gabriel's job was either.

"No, not a professor." Sam said quickly, shaking his head. "Promise not to laugh, okay? I want to be a lawyer. The class I'm taking is an elective but I want to get a good grade. I'm taking the class because I'm interested so why shouldn't I try to do my best? I don't want to coast." He paused for a moment to take another sip of his cocktail, licking his lips. "And I think it's important to be open-minded. There are a lot of problems with our justice system. If I can actually make it through school then I want to do some good with my degree at the end of it." He shrugged. There were a lot of things Sam wanted to change but he'd be happy starting small and making sure people who didn't normally get a voice in a court room got one. "I'm not going into law for the money."

Dean watched as Castiel disappeared and he sighed. The place, without Castiel there to distract him, was weird. Too dark, too loud, and three beers just weren't enough to make him enjoy staying a moment longer than he needed. Luckily enough, Sam was not difficult to find. "Come on princess, we're heading home." He said, having collected Sam's note-book, pressing it into his brother's chest, offering a tense little smile to Gabriella or whatever his name was. It was impossible to imagine Castiel and the stand-up act were related but that was what the singer had said.

"Come on. Or you can stay and get a taxi back, your choice." He didn't want Sam to stay. Maybe the threat of making him pay for a taxi home would stir him. "Sam-" He stopped then, eyes flickering to the glass in front of his brother, the distinctly fruity smell and the lack of beer bottles. "Are you drinking cocktails?"

Sam swung round on his barstool, trying to block his brother's view of his cocktail but Dean had already seen it. "Yes, I am. It's on Gabriel's tab and it's really good." He said, deciding that if Dean already knew then there was no point in pretending he wasn't enjoying it. "And how much have you had to drink, Dean? I don't think you should be driving home and I can't. Maybe we should both get a taxi or just stay here longer." He squinted at his brother, trying to decide if Dean looked uncomfortable or pissed off. "Did Misha give you the brush off?" He asked, unable to ignore it any longer, not even to make Dean feel more secure. He'd played at being oblivious before the cocktails but right now they were going straight to his head and he couldn't pretend any longer that he hadn't noticed.

Dean glared and Gabriel beamed at the mention of the cocktail, the bejewelled entertainer's hand still on Sam's arm, only pulling away when Sam turned around. As if he didn't want to stop touching, but Dean's glare on Gabriel had convinced him trying to touch Sam again was a bad idea at the moment.

Dean sighed. Sammy was often far too smart for his own good, even when he was drunk and despite his weird obsession with girly drinks and Gabriella, Dean was tempted to settle into the free bar-stool on Sam's other side and get another beer while he straightened out the mass of thoughts and feelings bubbling around inside him.

But no, that wasn't going to happen. "Cas," Dean said, emphasising the name. Misha wasn't what the singer preferred to be called, they'd been told that. Sam was meant to have been writing things down, or hadn't he been listening? Maybe he'd been looking at Gabriella or something. "Cas was tired. Those shoes weren't very comfortable. But I'm glad to see you and your boyfriend are getting off your faces. Taxi money is coming out of your pocket."

"Dean, I'm pretty sure if a guy buys you a drink it doesn't make him your boyfriend." Sam said slowly, fixing his eyes on his brother's left ear and giving it the glare he'd meant for Dean. If it did mean that then Cas or Misha or whatever his name was Dean's boyfriend now since Dean had bought him that bottle of water. Sam noticed that about a third of it had been drunk and the rest was just left there on the table untouched. That was wasteful. He was going to finish all of his appletini so Gabriel wouldn't feel he'd paid for something that Sam was then ungrateful enough not to drink. That thought in mind he picked up his drink again and downed the rest of it. "I'm fine with paying. Taxi is cheaper than a hospital." That was one of Kate's favourite sayings and he supposed Adam's too since he'd heard his half-brother say it enough. It was good advice and he was glad he was remembering it now.

He slid off the barstool, legs seeming to want to continue to slide further and it took a moment before Sam was completely upright again. "Gabriel," He said, turning to clap the man on the arm. "It's been a pleasure. Thanks for answering my questions. I'll come back and see your new routine. Dean, do you have your phone? We need to call a cab." And Sam couldn't remember the address exactly. He kept mixing up the house numbers with that place they'd stayed in Phoenix that one time with their dad.

Dean sighed again. He hated stupid catchphrases and okay, Kate was an awesome lady but the fact she'd imposed that phrase into their lives via Adam made him dislike her a little. Maybe it was just because Sam was grating on his nerves right now and all he could do was let him make his stupid goodbyes and then tug him away, reaching into his jacket pocket and tugging out his phone, making the call. Whatever the fuck Sam had been drinking he was going to regret tomorrow morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was actually pretty surprised that he'd had the foresight to book the morning off. He'd done it originally so Bobby wouldn't have the chance to ask him where he'd gone and somehow weasel out the truth- Bobby always got to the bottom of things. He was a bloodhound when he wanted to be. He hauled his ass out of bed about three hours after he'd knocked his alarm clock to the ground, even though he still felt a little worse for wear. It didn't help that he'd left the Impala at that Club overnight; it was probably scratched to hell if it was still there.

"Shit." He cussed, finishing his umpteenth coffee and shoving the rest of the toast he'd had for bunch into his mouth, finding a pen and sticking a note to the fridge. _Gone to rescue the car_. Not that Sam was likely to get up at any point soon and wherever Adam was, it didn't appear to be here.

Adam was old enough to look after himself though, so Dean left the house, shuddering instead at the idea of public transport rather than leaving Adam alone. He did get back to Candy Club though, and god, the place looked different in the daylight. And that was just the outside. Which, thankfully, still contained the Impala. Without a scratch on her. He checked every inch. Even the tyres. And then, satisfied, he let out a breath and glanced back to the building.

Maybe he should just go. He had four hours or so until he had to work and he should make sure Sam was up and ate something and that Adam came home and... no. They could look after themselves. He was only going to take a peek at what it looked like when it was empty anyway. So he stepped up to the doors, glancing over them. Nothing like a security system in sight so... he pushed, just to see, and the door opened. Wow. That he'd not been expecting.

"Hi?" He called out, just to make sure he wasn't going to be mistaken for a burglar. He'd rather not be hit over the head with something if he could help it, or shot, especially as then Sam would have to find out that he'd been here again for more than picking up the car.

Castiel looked up from the paper work he was doing, still trying to understand how they had ended up twenty-five dollars down but he had a feeling where that money had disappeared out to after the previous night's takings. He had his suspicions that one of their bar staff was stealing from them and they couldn't afford people taking any extras. Stealing wasn't a perk of the job, Castiel reminded himself but he was still loath to consider the idea that he might have to fire anyone, even someone who was ripping them off. He sighed, pushing the accounts away from himself and stood up. They were expecting a delivery today so he'd unlocked the door. He was going to be down there working on the accounts and the driver always pulled up front anyway.

"Hello." He said, holding his hand up to cover his eyes against the glare of the sun. It was pretty dark inside the club without lights on and Castiel didn't put the lights on unless he really needed them. Extra money going on electricity bills was not something they needed right now. "Do you just want to bring it in and leave it by the door? I'll get to it in a moment. Is a cheque okay?" He turned back to the table, riffling through the papers till he found the cheque book for the business's current account. There'd be enough in it to cover the delivery provided that Gabriel hadn't decided to add anything extra to their order.

"Er-" Dean said, because clearly Castiel was expecting someone. It was obviously Cas, that voice had imprinted on his mind and as he stepped deeper into the dark innards of the club- it was odd, being back here. The place had looked much different last night, but maybe that was because it'd been busy and there'd been multicoloured lights and noise. Now it just looked dim.

But there was at least one little corner that seemed bright, one of the tables, papers and what looked like a ledger book spread across the top. And Cas. Without the make-up and the shoes and the dress. Cas. Obviously a boy, even with the long hair, those eyes. Boy.

Dean faltered, and then swallowed. He'd known Cas was a boy. He knew what this place was. He was ignoring it. Had been ignoring it. That didn't mean he couldn't say hi. That was why he'd tried the door, wasn't it? To see Cas, Misha. From last night. Why the hell he'd thought that he'd see the marvellous creature in the gleaming white dress, the creature that could have been mistaken for an angel... well, he was stupid. And he wasn't saying that Cas wasn't attractive, because he was. And thinking that didn't make Dean gay.

"Yeah." He managed, forcing himself to speak because he'd been too quite too long, fighting his internal battles. "Not your delivery guy, sorry. I was just coming back to fetch the car." Not for anything else. He should tell the kid now he wasn't going to come back on Thursday. That something else had come up. Family stuff.

Yeah, because if that wasn't the most obvious brush-off in the book.

And now Castiel's eyes were adjusting to the light and or the lack of it. "I'm sorry, Dean. I've just been waiting for the delivery man." He said, wondering now how he could ever have thought that Dean was anyone else but he had been on autopilot. He'd only managed to crawl into bed after midnight when he'd finally got all of that tacky make up removed. Putting it on took hours and taking it off seemed to take the same level of dedication. He'd skipped the bath in the end and just crawled straight into bed. He'd had a cup of coffee that morning but nothing to eat yet so Castiel could forgive himself for being a little addle-brained. He just hoped Dean wouldn't think that Castiel had forgotten about him

"I didn't realise you'd left your car here. Probably best not driving back when you'd been drinking." He said thoughtfully. "I wasn't expecting to see you until Thursday. Is there a problem?" He knew sometimes people who left their cars outside the club got them clamped. Mostly that person though was Gabriel and his parking was awful but that didn't mean that Dean might not have been the victim of an overzealous policeman. "I've got a contact. We can probably get that removed for you." He'd have to beg Lucifer and Lucifer would then phone up Nick and make whatever bargain they normally made to get Gabriel's car unclamped.

"Huh?" Dean said, more than likely appearing addle-brained himself. He was still trying to get his head back into gear, trying to get over whatever hurdle he was stuck behind but he just couldn't do it. His brain seemed to be stuck in reverse gear and he just couldn't get it going again. "No, no, everything's fine." He said after a moment, because he just couldn't understand what Cas was taking about. What did he need removed? And what sort of contacts did they have for it? Considering what the Candy Club actually was, Dean didn't want to think too hard on the subject. Maybe coming inside was the worst idea he'd ever had.

Correction, the worse idea Sam had ever had. This was all Sam's fault. "Yeah, Thursday." He repeated then, hand moving to the back of his head. "I don't know if I'll be able to make it." There, he'd said it. But he wasn't looking at Castiel, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor just to his right. He didn't want to see what Castiel thought of him. He'd tried, last night. But he'd been drunk and he wasn't into guys.

Not even ones with beautiful eyes. And then, that was it. He looked up to Castiel's big, soulful eyes, bright despite how dark it was. And that mouth, and the dark hair that framed his face and even without the dress, that face... "I thought maybe Wednesday instead." He didn't know what he was saying, but he'd said it. And Wednesday was tomorrow. Which probably meant Castiel would think Dean really had the hots for him.

"Really?" Castiel asked, a little surprised by that. He'd thought that Dean was trying to find a way to get out of what he'd said the night before. Admittedly Castiel hadn't expected him to come back. He might have hoped a little but Dean had been drinking the night before, he might not have even remembered what he'd said and maybe there was a part of Castiel that just didn't expect anyone to want to come back. "That's great. I'll make that reservation for you now so you don't have to worry about calling in."

He found the reservations book behind the bar and pulled it out. He flipped to Wednesday, grateful to find that they did have a table open in the front. He grabbed his pen. "Dean what?" He asked, glancing up at the man. "And I need your phone number as well." He wondered if Dean would mind giving out his number. Some people didn't want anything that could track them to the club. It was like a dirty little secret but Dean didn't seem like that. He was turning up here in the middle of the day and he'd left his car parked outside. He was so different to the other men who'd wanted to talk to Castiel, no, to Misha. Castiel really couldn't wait for the day when he didn't spend time pretending to be somebody else for a living.

Now Cas seemed the one who was surprised, and Dean wondered if he had been wrong, if Cas had only been polite and friendly the night before because Gabriella had told him to be, that he wasn't interested really. Dean had no idea how much beer he'd actual drunk the night before but maybe it had been enough to throw off his judgement. It was possible after all, even if it didn't usually happen. He was pretty good at working out what people wanted or what they thought even when he was drinking. Otherwise he'd never get laid.

Dean followed though, when the other man moved to the bar, digging around there and Dean settled on a stool, not too close, because Cas might want to tell him they were all booked up Wednesday and oh well never mind they'd take a rain-check. But he didn't, and Dean found himself smiling widely. Cas wanted his number. Sure, right, whatever for the log book or whatever it was. Cas would have his number. "Winchester. Dean Winchester." He supplied, because okay, even if it was a guy who found him hot, Dean liked that. Maybe that made him an ego maniac or something. "Do you want a cell number or home? Because at home you'll just get Sam or Adam. Cell is better if you want to reach me." And maybe Cas would want to call him or text him or something.

Wanting him to, though, that was sort of wrong.

"Novak." Castiel said without looking up. "That's my surname. Castiel Novak." He wrote Dean's name down in the free space and then scribbled a quick note under it in case anyone happened to pick up the reservation book before Wednesday. '_Do not give this table away. Luci, that means you!_' It would be just like one of his brothers to give away the table Castiel had reserved for Dean and leave the man standing at the bar. They played favourites and maybe that was what Castiel was doing now but he wasn't queue jumping for Dean. If there hadn't been an available table he would have told Dean that.

"If you want to give your cell number that's okay." Castiel agreed. People didn't always want to be called at home to have their reservation confirmed. Cell phone numbers were fine. "We'll just give you a call on the day to make sure you still want the table. There's always someone who doesn't book, comes in late and wants to sit up front and we can't hold tables if people aren't going to turn up." He said, glancing up at Dean and smiling at him. He didn't think that would be the case with Dean. "Who's Adam?" He asked, thinking back to the night before. "Sam was your brother who was here yesterday, yes?"

Dean smiled slightly. He could imagine all sorts of guys came down here and didn't want people finding out. The sort of guys that had one phone for their girlfriends and one for their wife. "I'll give you both." He said, rattling off the numbers, watching Castiel write them down. He seemed to have nice writing, sort of posh, smart writing, and neat too. Dean's was fucking terrible, or so Sam kept telling him. Dean didn't care much. But he liked Cas'. That was pretty weird though, so he decided not to mention it. "Cell is best though. Don't have a machine at home, in case my dad rings." That was a joke, and one that he guessed Cas wouldn't get, but he offered a smile anyway, just to prove he was messing around.

"Adam? Oh, he's the youngest. Half-brother. At university. We hardly ever see him, he just crawls home at stupid o'clock and dumps dirty clothes around the house." Dean said, and then realised something. "So we're pretty evenly matched on the brother's front. Although I think mine are probably worse than yours, even if mine don't do stand-up in pink dresses." Because they were weird in their own way. Thank god there was no business, no industry in the world that they could go into together. They'd all be bankrupt within a week. Or somehow one of them would have killed the others. Sam. It would be Sam, it was always the quiet ones.

"You think I've only got two brothers?" Castiel asked, smiling more to himself then to Dean. "I've got sisters too. Where do you think I learnt to apply make-up? I didn't teach myself and youtube tutorials didn't exist when I was growing up." He'd not actually been interested in anything like all the frivolity he'd learned since he came here when he was younger. Anna had practised on all of them because she said it was easier to get the technique right on someone else first and Castiel had been a lot more docile then some of his other brothers. Lucifer had been the one with the actual knack for it but their father had never liked it. He'd turn in his grave if he knew what they were doing here, if he was in a grave. Castiel didn't know. He knew that Gabriel thought he was probably dead. He thought sometimes it would be better if he was. All his children had moved on without him.

"Oh," Dean said, a little crestfallen, although god only knew why. He guessed maybe he wanted something in common, but it didn't matter. He was smiling as Cas spoke, laughing at the mention of youtube. He'd just thought there were stupid videos of cats on there, and music. Make-up tutorials? That was a new one on him. "I thought you were just a natural?" He said, because he'd not thought about it, not really, but he supposed that's what he'd thought. "So why does it look like Gabriella's applied his with a shovel?" He asked then, because he had to. Castiel looked beautiful on stage, all smokey-eyed and wet-lipped and Gabriel... looked a mess. That was the truth and he wasn't going to dress it up.

Castiel laughed. He didn't mean too but he couldn't help it. "Because Gabriel isn't trying to look feminine. He's trying to look like a guy in a dress." He said, surprised Dean hadn't realised that. "Gabriel is the comic relief." Part of Gabriel's act was looking as if was Dolly Parton after an experience with a temperamental hair dryer and half a ton of stage make-up. "It's what people expect and he's playing up to them." He tried to explain but he wasn't sure that Dean would get the subtle differences between what he and Lucifer did and what Gabriel did. Maybe there wasn't a lot of difference anymore.

A lot of performers now prided themselves on how well they perfected passing and they didn't want to make it obvious that it was an over the top persona people were watching. Gabriel was old school. Unless Dean had a lot of interest in queer subculture then he probably wouldn't know that. Castiel didn't think that Dean was the sort of man who would know. He just to act straight all the time. Castiel had to admit he was drawn towards straight acting gay men although more so since he'd started to work at the Candy Club. Anyone who drank beer and had dirt under his nails suddenly seemed worth a second look. It was all fetishisation at the end of the day and Castiel hated that there was a part of him that liked Dean simply because he fitted a type.

He stood there for a moment, wondering if he should do something else, say something else to Dean. It felt like something special was happening now between them but Castiel didn't want to dwell on thoughts like that. Dean was just a nice guy who liked hearing Castiel sing. He wasn't a creep. He wasn't married or didn't seem to be at least and maybe Castiel liked the idea of having him up in the front row. There was nothing wrong with any of that and he didn't have to explain himself to anyone, especially not himself. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Dean." He said, reaching to brush his unruly hair behind his ear. It was getting too long. From the back he looked like a girl which in his line of work was helpful but Castiel didn't like it.

Well, that looked like that was over. He got up, off the stool. "Yeah. I should leave. I have work and Bobby isn't going to be pleased if I don't turn up." That much was true. Even if he had... well, a long while yet till Bobby would expect him. But there was no point hanging around if Cas was busy. "I didn't mean to distract you. Adam and Sam refuse to study near me. I'm a walking distraction." And he was trying to delay leaving. That was obvious even to him so he had better just man-up and go. "See you Wednesday then. Get them to get you better shoes before then!" He called, heading to the door, a weird twisting in his stomach. Nerves, maybe that was it. Or anticipation.

"I'll be lucky!" Castiel shouted after him before going back to the accounts. They'd have to fire that member of the bar team. Castiel was never going to get new shoes when he was there stealing their earnings. Maybe they'd be able to hire a part timer who'd work a bit cheaper in his place.

Dean hadn't had a good day at work. He'd been distracted, it wasn't his fault really. He was trying to work out what the hell he was meant to wear to the club, and more importantly, why he ever cared about what he wore was bothering him too. It wasn't a date, it wasn't even a club with a dress-code, it wasn't even important. No one cared what he looked like. But the frustration was taking its toll. He'd been working on the same stupid little fault with a gear-box almost all afternoon when Bobby called him up on it. The man wasn't pleased, face set in a close approximation to one of Sam's bitch-faces as he pushed Dean out of the way and looked at the SUV's innards himself.

"What the hell, boy?" He asked, straightening up. Dean could have had that fixed in an hour, maybe a bit more on a normal day. But this wasn't any normal day. The morning off had clearly rattled his brain and he was useless in his current state. "You go call this girl," Bobby said, because when Dean was troubled it was either some girl or his brothers, and when Sam or Adam were up to something, Dean didn't bother hiding his feelings. Quiet Dean was a worrying Dean. "And I don't want to see your face here till you've sorted yourself out, hear me?" He added, ignoring Dean's protests and taking over the car himself, shoving Dean out of the way.

So Dean was at a loss. He milled around the yard for a few minutes, but that didn't help. Bobby didn't want him there so... well, he headed home, where else did he have to go? He let himself in too, not used to being home this early, dumping his keys and his coat and looking around the apartment, trying to work out what to do. "Sam? Adam?" He called, wondering if anyone else was about, or if he had the place to himself. What the hell he was going to do he didn't know. Dr Sexy wouldn't be on for hours yet. Maybe there was re-runs.

There was the sound upstairs of something being knocked over and then swearing.

"Dean, don't come up!" Adam shouted, frantically trying to stuff everything back into the box he'd knocked over. There was eye shadow everywhere, glitter and mascara and some of it was in the carpet. He'd need to vacuum. Dean was supposed to be at work and Sam had classes. This was Adam's free time. He'd never do this when either of his brother's was home to catch him but they hadn't been home. He shoved everything back into the box and then pushed the box back into the bottom draw of his dresser, underneath the old pullovers he kept for winter. No one was going to be looking there for things to borrow. Those hardly even fitted Adam any more so neither of his brother's would want them. "I'm fine." He shouted again. "I just knocked something over. I didn't expect you to be home yet."

He glanced at himself in the mirror and reached for a wet-wipe. There was no way he'd be able to get all of this off his face before Dean got up there. He'd just wanted to practise his eyeliner because he kept drawing wonky lines but eyeliner meant eye shadow and that meant foundation. There was a lot to think about. Lipstick was most important and Adam always liked the person who looked back at him better than the face he usually wore. Dean wouldn't get that though. Sam might understand that it didn't mean Adam wanted to be a woman, far from it, he just liked their things. His mum understood. She'd never said anything but she didn't complain if an old lipstick or two went missing but Dean would never get it.

"Just don't come up!" He shouted again, scrubbing at his face as hard as he could, his mascara smearing down his cheek.

Adam had a lot to learn about his half-brothers, or at least about Dean. As soon as someone told him not to do something, he was bound by some sort of brotherly-law to do it. In this case, he was heading for the stairs as soon as Adam's panicked, muffled voice echoed down to him, and he was climbing up towards their rooms by the time Adam was telling him not to come up. It was just how he was. He would have done the same thing to Sam, frequently did for that matter and if Adam thought he wasn't going to be treated the same he had another thought coming.

Of course Dean didn't know exactly what Adam was doing. He wanted to find out. If it was embarrassing, all the better. He probably had some girl from one of his classes in there. Got her to come over so they could work on some presentation or something, he was sure they made you do that at college. It was the reasoning Dean had used in High-school with great effect. If Adam was a late bloomer, that was okay. He would just pop his head in the door, grin, check out the girl because this was his baby brother they were talking about, and then go downstairs. He'd mention it that night when Sam was back. About a hundred times. At least. It would be great.

"Everything okay?" He asked, ignoring Adam's own desperate calls, heading down the landing with his thumbs tucked into his pockets. She'd be sort of cute, blonde probably, not unlike Jo, he guessed, with painted lips and in really tight jeans. He'd congratulate Adam later, when she'd gone home. Maybe she had a cute sister who'd come pick her up. Although really, that didn't sound all that interesting.

He stopped then, at Adam's door, a "Oh, hi" on his lips, like he was cool with his dorky kid brother bringing home girls, that Adam was cool and probably the best lay this girl had ever had... and there was no girl. No girl, although there was a funny sweet smell in the air and Adam looked... Dean didn't know what the fuck he looked like. He'd never, ever seen anyone look like that before in his life.

"What the fuck?" He managed, having paused for a long moment working out that Adam was alone and doing some weird shit to his face.

For a moment Adam didn't know what to do. He wanted to tell Dean to get the fuck out of his room but if Dean took this badly then Adam didn't know what he'd do. Moving in with Sam and Dean while he went to college had been sensible. He was close enough here that he could visit his mom on weekends or pop over quickly if she needed him and he got to spend time with the brother's he hadn't known that well growing up. He was able to save up some money while he went to college and he didn't have to drain his mom's savings to help pay for rent. If Dean kicked him out then where was Adam going to go? It wasn't as if Adam had his name on a lease or anything. He'd been there because it made sense but it wasn't his house. It belonged to Sam and Dean and Adam was just an interloper in their midst.

"I told you not to come upstairs." He said. If Dean had just listened to him then this could have been avoided. Dean had bought this on himself. He'd been the one who couldn't just live in blissful ignorance. Adam threw down the wet-wipe. There wasn't any point in trying to get the makeup off any more now Dean had seen it. "It's just makeup, Dean. I…I just like it, okay?" He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, not sure what else he could say. He didn't know how to explain any of this to Dean. He'd never tried to explain it to anyone and if he'd had a choice then Dean would never have been the first person he tried it with. It just made sense in Adam's head and he was comfortable with it.

Dean had thought, for a brief, happy moment that some pricks had drawn on Adam's face when he'd fallen asleep in the library or something. Okay, it wasn't a happy thought, but it was a normal thought. He could have ignored the bright, wet finish to his baby brother's lips, he could have ignored the colour around his eyes. Some jerks had just drawn black stuff on Adam's face. Maybe it wasn't believable, but Dean could force himself to believe anything other than what was in front of him at that moment. And then Adam had to go and admit it, to voice what could have otherwise been denied and ignored.

They stood, silent, the air thick with tension and all Dean could think about was Cas. Fucking Cas! With his beautiful eyes that didn't make him look like a panda, with his amazing full lips and that colour on his cheeks. Cas had looked amazing. Adam just looked like a mess. Maybe because he was taking it all off. Maybe because he just wasn't Cas. "No sisters." He muttered, and then shook his head. What the hell was happening? First that Club and Sam drinking fucking cocktails. Girlie cocktails. And then he'd come home at... this! There was this!

"Am I the only fucking straight guy left on the planet?" He asked to the heavens, arms opening. Bottled water. That was it. Adam and Sam drank it. Cas drank bottled water. There was something in it, obviously. It was too late to save his brothers, but he would never touch the stuff. He'd be okay. "You know what, Adam? Okay. Okay, you like make-up. Get it off, okay?" He said, because what else could he say? His brother looked like an idiot.

"I am not your sister, Dean." Adam snapped. He'd known this was why he'd wanted to keep it a secret because Dean would just never understand. "I don't want to be your sister. I just like it. It doesn't mean anything. I just like it." If he said it enough times then maybe Dean would get idea. You just had to keep repeating things with Dean until they sunk in.

"Dean, this doesn't mean I'm gay!" Dean was apparently going to pull every single cliché out of the box. It shouldn't have surprised Adam. He should have been ready for it but it still hurt a lot when his brother said things like that. Dean for all his faults was still his brother and Adam wanted to be accepted. He was the result of an affair that had broken up John Winchester's marriage. His half-brothers didn't have to spend any time with him, they didn't even have to acknowledge him but they had and Adam just wanted them to accept him. "I don't know what I am." He muttered. Dean probably didn't want to hear this and Adam didn't know why he was telling him but Dean hadn't learned to go away when people told him to so he was going to have to listen "But wearing makeup doesn't make me anything. I've had sex with girls."

"Yeah, fine." He muttered, reaching for the pack of wet wipes again. "Do you want to get out now?" It was tricky getting it all off and Adam didn't want Dean standing over his shoulder watching him.

"I wasn't even talking about you!" Dean snapped back, voice raising. He'd been sort of calm before. But now Adam was just assuming things that were nothing to do with him and all to do with Cas and Dean hadn't even realised he'd said the thing about sister's aloud. But he was sure if Adam had a sister then he wouldn't have looked like a clown.

That was too harsh. He didn't look like a clown. Dean shouldn't have called him that. Thought that. Whatever. "You think girls dig that?" He made a gesture towards Adam's face, as if that explained it all. "Come on, Adam! Even if you aren't gay, really? The only dudes that like that shit are weird, really, really weird, okay? Ask Sam. He's doing that weird paper. He knows all about this crap." He didn't want to say where he'd been. He didn't want to admit being at the Candy Club, about Cas. Cas was a great person, sweet and sort of shy and human and Dean needed to wear something nice tomorrow night. Cas, who was cute and looked great in that dress and the stupid painful shoes, should never, and could never be, put into the same grouping as Adam. Adam who was still just a kid, still messing around. He wasn't even listening to Adam anymore, blinking as Adam told him to leave and muttering a "Yeah... right..." as he moved towards his own room. He had a shirt in there, right?

"Dean just drop it!" Adam shouted. He didn't care what girls wanted, he didn't care what guys wanted. All he wanted was for his brother to get out of his room and leave him alone. "I know you think I'm a freak, Dean. I know you do!" He didn't need to hear Dean say the words. Everything else Dean had done, the way he'd reacted had said it for him. Dean thought that Adam was a freak and a specimen for Sam to study. That would be how Sam would treat him, as if Adam was an experiment he could understand if he applied the right line of questioning. He wouldn't realise how outcast he made Adam feel and Dean would just go on shouting and ranting about anything that made him the slightest bit uncomfortable and showed him up for the bigot he really was. Adam waited for his brother to leave and shut the door behind him with a firm slam. It didn't make him feel any better.

He sat down on his bed, the packet of wet wipes in his hand and stared at them for a long time. He read and re-read the packet information, not really seeing any of it and it took him a little while to realise that he was crying.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel and Luci had been laughing about it all day, ever since Gabriel had discovered Dean's name down in the bookings diary. He couldn't help but flash a grin at Castiel every time he saw him. He didn't mean to tease, not really, although he supposed that knowing smile might be considered annoying. Really he just wanted to let Castiel know that Gabriel was behind him. It was about time that someone took an interest in Castiel- someone nice. Dean wasn't exactly what Gabriel had had in mind, but he seemed to be having a positive effect on Castiel.

They were now fifteen minutes and counting from the start of the evening's line-up, and Gabriel was peering out from between the curtains at the back of the stage. He was only half-dressed; the lipstick was yet to go on, as were Gabriella's sequinned shoes. And her jewellery. But he was watching the tall, broad-shouldered figure with interest. Not because Dean Winchester was interesting, but because he might have brought Sam.

He looked like he was on his own, but really, it was impossible to tell. The stage lights shone in Gabriel's eyes and the audience were just dark shapes beyond. But if Sam wasn't there, that was alright. Gabriel could deal with disappointment, and it wasn't as if they'd made a date. Sam just said he might come back. Dean had been the one to put his name down, in person too, and actually show up again. It just went to show you couldn't judge a book by its cover, or for that matter, a straight man.

"Caaaaaaassie," Gabriel cooed, voice sing-song and ever-so-pleased. "Wouldn't you like to know who's sat out there at your special table? Tall-dark-and-handsome! Come see!" He called, making sure Luci could hear too.

"Gabriel, it is not a special table." Castiel said with a sigh. He regretted that the truth had ever come out. Now both his brothers thought that this was something it was not - a date. "Simply because you and Lucifer only invite people to sit up front in you want to go to bed with them doesn't mean I'm the same." He peered out over Gabriel's shoulder even so. Everyone was a blur from backstage which made it a bit easier facing them but he could see Dean sat at the table and his heart thrummed in his chest.

"I'll just make sure he's okay." Castiel said, ignoring his brother's and their catcalls. He just wanted to make certain that Dean was comfortable. He was being courteous. Dean had paid extra to sit up front so the least Castiel could do was make certain he was happy with his seat. His shoes made a clacking sound as he ran from backstage down to the little side door and then into the audience. He wasn't excited to see Dean there, excited to talk to him again. He was just making the best use of time.

As he became accustomed to the lights down in the audience, the glow of the candles, he realised that Dean's was dressed in a suit, a very good suit and not at all like the jeans and jacket he'd had thrown on when he visited before. Castiel had thought he worked in a garage. He'd probably had to fix a lot of cars to afford a suit that nice and it made Castiel feel a little more hopeful about Dean and his reasons for coming back.

He stepped up to the table, clearing his throat softly. "Dean, I…" And then he gasped. "Michael!"

Michael hadn't expected anyone to come and greet him. He'd settled down in a free seat, ready to witness his brothers' show. He'd never seen it, despite the amount of money he'd funnelled into their little business. He had no real idea of how well they were doing, but the place seemed fairly busy. He was actually fairly lucky to get such a good table, considering that the rest of the first row seemed to have already been claimed. He'd taken a brief glance over the patrons- he of course was not a patron- and decided that while some of them seemed to be reasonably well dressed, drinking expensive spirits, those sitting further back did not seem to be the sort he would want anywhere near his younger siblings. He would speak to them, after the show, somewhere quiet. He had attempted to speak to them before, but calling Luci was a waste of effort, and Gabriel was an expert in finding excuses to prevent them having to meet.

Today though there would be no excuses. Michael had a glass of scotch- hideously poor quality considering the amount he'd paid at the bar- and he could at least relax and try to appreciate his brothers' hard work. He was leant back in the chair, the closest he ever got to slouching, when Castiel appeared. He jumped, not expecting the young man and he paused before greeting his youngest sibling, looking him over. "Castiel," He began, not having known that he was on the stage too, "What are you wearing?"

Castiel glanced down at himself, suddenly self-conscious in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He normally felt uncomfortable, unhappy dressed up but he didn't feel the way Michael made him feel now, as if he was ugly. He could see himself through Michael's eyes, ungainly and too masculine and he crossed his arms over his body, wanting to hide himself as much as he could. "I'm working, Michael. Please call me Misha" He muttered, sliding down into the chair across from his brother, hunching over himself and he glanced around just in case anyone might have heard Michael call him by his real name.

"Misha?" Michael replied, more than a little bemused by his brother and by his other siblings who had no doubt encouraged Castiel to pick such a name. He had always been so smart and so sensible. Frankly being involved in this ridiculous venture at all was almost completely out of character for Castiel. Almost, but not completely. He had always been a sucker for doing what his brothers'wanted.

His brothers aside from Michael, apparently.

"You can't sit here, Michael." Castiel said, looking up at his brother and frowning at him. "This table is reserved. I know you're my brother but that doesn't mean you can just turn up whenever you want. The club is doing well, I'm sure you're pleased that we might be able to pay back your loan soon." Even as he spoke Castiel glanced away towards the door, worried that any moment now Dean was going to appear and see him sat there with another man. He picked at his nails, picking the polish off as he worried. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Dean, about the fact that Dean was coming here tonight just for him. Castiel didn't want to get his hopes up and he was steadfastly ignoring everything Gabriel and Lucifer said but Dean had seen him in his normal clothes, seen him working on accounts and he'd still wanted to come back. He seemed different to other men Castiel had met through the club.

Michael sighed. "It isn't about the money, Ca... Misha. It's about what you're all doing here. This place, these men. It isn't normal for men to..." to be attracted to other men dressed as women. Or at least his brothers dressed as women. Gabriel was a laughing stock, Castiel was wasting his potential and the less said about Lucifer's antics the better.

And then he frowned. "There are men wanting to book tables?" he repeated, blinking around at the other clientele and then looking back at Castiel with concern. "Who?" No one but perverts who had no right to be so close to his brother, Michael was sure.

Castile could feel the blush rising in his cheeks but he refused to look at Michael, refused to listen to what he was saying. It wasn't anything worse than what Castiel had thought to himself when he was lying awake in bed at night but it sounded worse coming from Michael. "Michael, please." He said, just wanting his brother to be quiet. Other people were going to overhear them in a moment if Michael didn't keep his voice down. Castiel couldn't have him insulting their patrons.

"Michael, if you keep saying things like this I will have to ask you to leave. As it is you cannot sit here. This seat is reserved." He repeated. He glanced up at his brother's face, watching the wave of revolution that rolled across it and almost felt like laughing. If it was just a normal club then Michael probably wouldn't find it so disgusting to think about people wanting to book tables. He'd probably be pleased to know the business was performing so well. "I can't tell you who, Michael. We value privacy here." He said, already having made his mind up that he was not about to continue arguing with Michael. He stood up, looking back quickly towards the front door but there was still no sign of Dean.

"Michael, you honestly can't sit here," He said again, hoping that Michael would finally take the hint and move.

Michael looked over Castiel again, watching his youngest sibling's face. This was important to him, for some unknown reason and while Michael was determined to find out why it was so important, he was in no hurry to distress Castiel any more than he had apparently already done that evening.

"Alright, alright." He said, and picked up his glass, getting to his feet. "So where are you going to have me sit?" He asked, glancing around the club that had certainly filled up since he'd arrived. There were seats, towards the back, in the dim lighting and Michael shuddered slightly. There was a certain type of man that would sit there, he felt, and he was not that sort.

And that was when the door at the back opened again, and a reasonably tall man in a leather jacket stepped in.

Dean had got caught in traffic on the way over but he'd come as fast as he could, even if the whole way over had been a struggle- should he go, should he not, but in the end he wanted to see Misha, Cas, sing again. He had promised and he wasn't going to break that. Besides, if he was meant to be sitting in a seat-up front, it was fairly obvious that he was missing. Not that he'd ever see Cas, Misha, again but if he did, he was certain that he wouldn't receive a very friendly reception.

Not that he was getting much of one at the moment either, not with Castiel- in that white dress with those beautiful smoky eyes- talking to some other guy. A guy in an expensive suit and Dean felt a sudden stone weighing him down. Misha didn't seem the type for meet-and-greets so this guy must have been special. He hung back, in the shadows at the side of the club, heading towards the bar and not taking his eyes off the pair. Maybe he should just go.

Castiel wasn't even listening to his brother any more. He'd caught sight of the door opening, Dean slinking into the room and taking one look at another man sat at his table. Even from far away Castiel could read his expression, read what he thought and he shrugged, irritated by Michael now. "I don't care, Michael. Find somewhere else." He said, moving quickly through the packed tables, ignoring other attempts to get his attention. He'd practically forgotten everything Lucifer had ever told him about walking in heels, about the need to appear to glide and move at a feminine pace and he strode through the room until he reached Dean's side.

"You're late." He said, frowning slightly. "Michael was trying to take your table. I told him to move."

Dean was not happy and that much was immediately obvious. He'd already ordered a beer by the time Misha reached him, taking a long swallow. Of course there were other guys here, of course there were sleazy balls in suits with high-paying jobs and wives and kids that wanted to get off watching Misha sing on stage and of course they would be invited to get special tables too. That was probably this guy's regular table and this week he'd not booked it and had just turned up expecting it to be held for him. Maybe him and Misha had some sort of arrangement or something.

Dean didn't turn his eyes to Misha, glaring instead at the beer bottle. No. He was wrong. He wasn't a bad character judge and Misha hadn't seemed like that at all. He was too guarded and too quiet and too damn nice for that. Dean was disgusted that he'd thought that, and he was horrified about how jealous he'd been too. That just wasn't right.

"This Michael guy, does he come to see you often?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual and not like he'd just had an envious rant in the privacy of his own head. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't gay and he wasn't interested and... yeah. All of that.

Castiel frowned, something in Dean's tone worrying him. "Michael, he doesn't come here that often." He said, gesturing back towards the table that his brother was in the process of vacating. "He thinks because he gave us the money to help start this place that he can just drop by without calling. I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't give away your table. I was telling him he had to move."

Castiel reached out then, fingers touching Dean's wrist gently, not certain that the man would welcome the touch but when he wasn't shaken off he gripped Dean tight and pulled him up from the barstool. "Come on." He said, leading Dean to the table. It had been reserved for him after all, Dean had paid more tonight for his cover because he'd wanted to sit up front, sit closer to Castiel then Castiel usually allowed anyone to get.

"Sounds like a great guy." Dean said, the bitter note creeping back into his voice but he couldn't help it, glaring at Michael again but then Misha was touching him- the grip film but the skin soft – sending a jolt through him that would have made Dean choke if he'd taken a swallow from his bottle then. He didn't like the idea of some loan-shark hounding Misha, making life difficult and perving on him. He was sure that was happening.

"Want me to kick him out?" Dean offered, moving closer to Misha and lowering his voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the suit-wearing asshole that was looking around the club for another seat. "Trust me, he won't be back to bother you again." And Misha would think he was some sort of hero. Dean wanted that. He wanted Misha to... he didn't know. Be relieved and grateful and come sit with him and not feel nervous, he guessed.

"No." Castiel said, his eyes widening slightly and he realised what Dean must have thought he'd discovered. He shook his head quickly. "Dean, you misunderstand. Michael is another brother." He looked at Dean thoughtfully for a moment. He had the feeling that Dean had really meant what he said, that he had been planning to tackle Michael if Castiel had said he was in any way causing a disturbance. "My oldest brother. He gave us money, he wants to see how the investment has gone and check up on us."

He smiled wanly at the idea of it - Michael worried about the man who'd pay to sit up front and receive Castiel's special attention and now Dean who was so angry at the thought that there might have been someone imposing themselves on Castiel when he didn't want it. He wondered if they ever had a reason to meet would they like each other and their similarities or would that cause them to immediately find fault with the other?

"I don't want to talk about Michael." He said, taking his seat at the table he'd reserved for Dean, waiting for the other man to join him. "The long story short is that I have a big family. They're loud and in everyone's business."

Dean hadn't been expecting that. "Brother?" He repeated dumbly, dropping himself into a seat and turning around, looking to where the suited man picked his way through the patrons and found himself a free seat towards the back- not far from the table Dean and Sam had sat at the other day, in fact. He looked back to Misha then, setting his beer down and trying to process what was being said. This Michael guy had stumped up the money for the Club, which Dean guessed was a sort of nice thing to do- but the way Misha described it, it seemed much more like a business transaction and not anything as nice as a family loan. He was probably charging them interest and everything.

"Offer still stands." Dean added, although he did smile slightly, as if to prove he was joking. Although it probably wouldn't end well if he did punch the other guys lights out- especially if Michael was giving Misha and the others money. In fact, Michael probably was watching them now, Dean and his younger brother, watching them talk and weighing up the guy who Misha had been so keen to sit up front. Maybe Misha was trying to show Dean off.

Still, Misha didn't want to talk about it and Dean understood that, it was probably too personal and too private to talk about with a guy who was still a stranger, and a customer. Although Dean didn't think of himself like the other men there. He wasn't a weird guy with some sort of weird fetish. "Okay, we won't talk about it." He agreed, with a wider smile. "We'll talk about something else. Like if your brothers got you some better shoes yet."

Someone had to do the laundry. There was only so long they could go before eventually it had to be done and this time it was Adam who found himself at home with no clean pants. When he'd first moved in Sam had drawn up a table of chores, trying to split it fairly between the free of them but Dean had never stuck to it so eventually it just fell to whoever was home to pick up after the other two. Adam grumbled, going through the pockets of the pair of jeans he'd pulled out of the washing basket, making sure Sam hadn't left anything important in there like money or notes for his classes. He dug out a napkin – pink and black – and pulled a face. Probably from some sort of strip club or something that Dean had convinced him to go to. He opened it up, looking at what Sam had written on it.

_Candy Club. Gabriella. Misha._

Great, so his brother had been out to some kind of strip club and hit on some strippers.

"Misha is a guy's name." Adam muttered, wondering what sort of club had male and female dancers. He stuffed the napkin into his own pocket, shoving the bundle of laundry into the washing machine and then went upstairs to google the Candy Club.

Anything to embarrass his brothers with later was fair game in Adam's book.

It was early, very early. The Club wasn't due to open until the evening, but Gabriel was trying to give the place an airing out. It got so dank and dirty and, frankly, unpleasant more often than not and he didn't want to work in an environment like that. So he'd started before Luci had got out of bed, Castiel was locked away in his room, and so Gabriel had started his spring cleaning. Damn Cas and damn the electric bill, Gabriel could have exclaimed as he threw the switches and put on every light, washing down the floors and cleaning out the bar and fixing himself a little pick-me-up along the way. And then by the time it was late afternoon, he felt, well, triumphant. Gone was all the dirt and dust and the old, and in with the new as they said!

And then, with only an hour or two before opening, he went off to get ready, donning the sequins and the false-nails and the ridiculous eyelashes and the wing and heading back downstairs. He was going to do meet-and-greet, even if Castiel and Luci never would. Auntie Gabriella almost always met 'her boys' at the door, always would and frankly he enjoyed it.

The only trouble was that ever since Dean Winchester had come back to see Castiel, he'd been waiting to see Sam, tall, handsome, smart, floppy-haired and puppy-eyed, walk through those double doors. No such luck. It was probably fate. Even so, he couldn't stop himself hoping, as he adjusted the dress across his chest, that tonight was the night.

Adam didn't really know what to expect. The google search had bought up some pretty interesting reviews but Adam couldn't really believe Sam would have ended up at a Drag Club. It seemed so unlikely that Sam would have been interested in coming to a place like this but then he had the napkin in his pocket and Adam wondered if maybe this was fate somehow. He still had no idea what it was going to turn out to be like but maybe this would be the sort of place he'd been looking for, somewhere that wouldn't judge him. He hadn't worn anything more than a pit of eyeliner and lipgloss, he'd just wanted to check the place out and he flashed his ID on the door as he got the once over from the guy manning it. Adam was twenty-one. He was just a baby-faced twenty-one.

Inside wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for. He'd been hoping for some sort of dance club, a place he could go wearing what he wanted and not have to make any excuses for himself but apart from a guy in the most glittering pink dress Adam had ever seen and the guys serving behind the bar in full make-up and heels everyone else was just dressed normally. He sighed, wishing he hadn't paid the cover charge now. He glanced up at the glittery dressed man as he passed, feeling his heart sink a little lower. He hadn't even applied his make-up well. It was just some sort of comedy place, somewhere guys could go to laugh at crossdressers. Dean probably would have loved it.

Gabriel's head tipped slightly to one side, watching the new comer move past him, the eyeliner highlighting the long lashes and exquisite colour of the young man's eyes. Gabriel couldn't help but be impressed, especially when his eyes roved over the rest of the boy. Young, legal but barely so and that worried Gabriel. The patrons could get rowdy and a pretty young thing might draw unwanted attention of some of the more vocal clientele. Gabriel didn't want that.

"No drink?" He asked, feeling the boy's glance more over him. "Didn't they tell you at the door? You get a free drink first time you visit and Auntie Gabriella never forgets a face." Although the boy did look slightly familiar, but where Gabriel knew him from was anyone's guess. Maybe from out and about although that was pretty unlikely. No one paid attention to people they just passed in the street. Even if they did cute things with make-up.

"Of course, if you're here to show me up, I won't be giving you a drink." Gabrielle added, smiling to betray the fact it was all a joke: the cute younger ones always did but no one thought Auntie Gabriella was attractive, they weren't meant to. Not even the tall, smart, funny men. Not even the ones that promised to come back and see him.

"Gabriella?" Adam said, raising an eyebrow. That had been one of the names Sam had written down on the napkin. Seeing this guy though made Adam wonder why he'd bothered. "No, no drink yet but if there's really a free one then I don't mind you getting me one. I'm not trying to show you up, I just wanted to check this place out." He shrugged. "I didn't really know what to expect. I thought it might be some kind of dance club or something. My brother came here, I think you might have met him. Sam? Winchester? But I guess you get a lot of guys in here right?" And maybe Adam was digging but he wanted to know why Sam had the guy's name written down on a napkin. Sam didn't bring the guys he dated home so Adam couldn't really say he knew Sam's type but he would never have put Gabriella down for it either way.

Gabriel's expression changed when Sam was mentioned. Maybe Sam was interested in him. Maybe he was just shy. Maybe he'd sent his baby brother in to find out if Gabe was interested too. Maybe... Maybe... But there was a lot of maybes and a lot of ifs and he couldn't be sure of anything at all. "I remember Sam. Very tall," He said, almost adding handsome in there too but best not, if the young man was sent as a spy. "So, what did Sam tell you about this place?" He asked casually, unable to imagine the brothers sitting around discussing their visit- at least not in front of Dean. He hadn't exactly been comfortable.

"So, you know who I am. What's your name? Sammy was partial to Appletinis, what's your poison?" He asked, moving to the bar-hatch, letting himself in to the bar itself. Since letting go of the little sneak-thief, they'd been short on help and although Gabriel knew he wasn't the greatest barman, it was all hands to the deck.

"Adam, my names Adam and I'll just have a beer." Adam said, taking a seat at the bar carefully. Slipping off and falling flat on his face was not going to endear him to anyone and was unlikely to make Adam consider coming back. Even if this place wasn't exactly what he'd expected it was the closest to any but the internet he had. "Shouldn't be too hard for you to do." He said with a grin. "Why are you behind the bar anyway? Aren't you…I don't know…don't you do an act or something?" The fact that Sam had told him nothing about the place and Adam had only found out he'd even been here because he'd been rifling through his pockets was not a fact Adam wanted to advertise so he kept quiet in regards to that particular question.

Gabriel stuck his tongue out from between gaudy painted lips, getting a beer and uncapping it, sliding it across the bar top, and as an after-thought, sliding over a glass too. Not everyone drank their beer straight from the bottle, even if Dean did. Bad manners didn't necessarily run in the family. Sam had been a perfect gentleman. "Don't be cheeky, you're still young enough for Auntie Gabriella to bend you over her knee and tan your hide." Gabriella warned, although the painted lips were quirked into a smile.

"Honestly? Bar work isn't for me. Not that sort of girl. I was destined for the stage!" That was perhaps a little over-the-top, but that was the point of Auntie Gabriella. She was the perfect excuse for Gabriel to be as dramatic as he wanted. "Actually, Adam, we're a little short of bar-help. I'm just pitching in before my little number kicks off. You'll enjoy it, Sam thought it was wonderful. And I think it's magnificent, even if I do say so myself."

"You're short on bar staff? Really?" Adam said, perking up a little. "I've done some shifts before to help out a family friend and I'm in college right now so if you needed someone I'm just happy get any money in at all." He needed a little fund for himself that Sam and Dean were unlikely to find out about. Besides, wearing make-up seemed to be a rule for working here so Adam really didn't mind if there was a job going and he got a little bit of extra time to be himself. He took a sip of the beer and then smiled. "I'm sure your set is great."

Gabriel paused, considering the idea for a moment. They did need staff. They'd put an advert in the paper, but they probably weren't going to get much luck. It would have been smart to find some sort of LGBT job website and put something up on there, but Gabriel hadn't had the chance to do it and besides, the damage had already been done by ol' sticky fingers, and they were too short on cash to manage with any extra expenses too. But if the boy in front of him was willing...

"Okay Adam. Are you free Monday night? Nice quiet shift, we'll give you a trial copy of hours and see how it goes." And that would give Sam and excuse to come back at some point, to drop Adam off or to pick him up and maybe that would give Gabriel an excuse to flirt a little more or even ask if Sam was free at some point and then-

Yeah. Right.

"Monday? Sure." Adam said smoothly. He'd show up, prove he could pour a glass of beer or make some sort of fancy cocktail and then maybe he'd get to meet some of the other guys who worked here. Maybe they'd be able to introduce him to that part of his life he still felt was missing. Maybe they'd accept him for who and what he was.

"Who's Misha, anyway?" He asked, leaning over the bar to whisper it conspiratorially. He might as well find out who the other person Sam had scribbled all over his napkin about was.

"Misha." Gabriel repeated, dropping the voice then. Everyone was always interested in Misha. Sammy had been the only one who hadn't been for a very long time. But maybe Adam was more like the other one, like Dean who liked to drink his beer out of a bottle and wouldn't have got a joke if it danced naked in front of him. "Misha is our star. A record label is going to snap her up any day now darling, I'm certain of it. Your brother was really very taken with her. Her set is just after mine. You should stick around and hear it."

"I paid for the whole night so I was going to stay for as long as I could." Adam pointed out. He lent a little closer, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sam was taken with Misha?" That was an insight into his brother that Adam had not really been expecting to get.

"Sam?" Gabriel said, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. But then he smiled, a wicked smirk this time. He could have kept the gossip to himself, of course, but he couldn't help it. He was, by nature, a gossip. "Sammy? Hells no! Dean was the one who was goo-goo eyes. Couldn't tear his eyes away when Misha was up on stage. Sat down and talked together for a while. And came back again the other day. "

"Dean?" Adam's mouth fell open in shock. He knew Sam had come here but he'd never have believed that Dean would set foot in here if he was given a choice. Not only had he apparently turned up but he'd also flirted with one of the guys working here. His brother was a fucking hypocrite. "He came back? Really? So, are they together?" If Dean thought that Adam wasn't going to hold this over his head then he didn't know his little brother very well.

"Yes, Dean." Gabriel replied, making a face. He had thought that Dean probably wouldn't have discussed his visit in much detail, but he seemed to have kept it a secret completely. But that was Dean's business- although if Gabriel had let the cat out of the bag... well, Dean was a big boy now. He could deal with it. And Gabriel had seen the way he'd looked at Castiel. He'd be back, even if he was embarrassed about it.

"Together? No! No, they aren't together." That was almost laughable. Castiel didn't date people. Especially not patrons who came to see him sing. Especially not patrons that liked the idea of Castiel in a dress. His baby bro didn't like his costume, Gabriel and Luci both knew that very well indeed. If Dean liked Misha in her make-up and her sparkly dress and her high-heeled shoes then Dean wouldn't like mousy little Cas who got off doing the accounts in slacks and one of Michael's old shirts. And Cas wouldn't like him either, if that was what Dean was into.

"Misha doesn't date patrons. It's best not to... well, best not to give them an inch, because some of them will take a mile. And that includes you too, and everyone behind the bar. We like everyone feeling safe here." He explained, and then reached over to stroke the young man's bangs into a single direction. He'd get Cas or Luci to give the boy a few tips too. Maybe Cas. Luci wouldn't treat the boy very kindly.

"Right. So no dating the customers." Adam agreed, frowning a little when Gabriel brushed his hair out of his eyes. That did put a damper on things slightly. Adam didn't know if he liked guys or girls but he knew how he preferred getting dressed up and here he was, in a club where the patrons probably would have liked that about him and they were allowed to look but not touch. Adam guessed he could understand why they had that rule but it still felt just that little bit unfair to him. He took another sip of his beer and the smiled at Gabriel. "You know, you're already talking like I've got the job."

"No letting the customers think that you are open to dating them." Gabriel furthered, holding up a finger to illustrate the point. After all, he didn't want to ever be accused of being a hypocrite. Then again, how likely was it that he'd see Sam again? Sam had told him he'd be back, he hadn't been, that was the end of it. He couldn't blame the man for being freaked out. Gabriel had something else to concentrate on now anyway. Training up his new barman.

"Well, maybe you have. We'll find out on Monday, won't we?"


	4. Chapter 4

Adam waited until they were all together on Saturday before he told them.

"I've got a new job." He said between mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese. He didn't look up but he didn't need to.

There was a clatter of cutlery as Sam put his fork down. He wasn't enjoying the lunch very much anyway. Meatloaf with macaroni and cheese. Adam had cooked so it was his choice what they ate but he could have at least included a side salad. Dean seemed fine with it since he'd smothered everything in BBQ sauce and was eating it with apparent gusto.

"Where?" Sam asked carefully. "You know you're taking on a lot of work, Adam. You don't need a part-time job on top of everything." He didn't want Adam failing school because he thought he had to chip in with the bills.

"At a club. I'm doing bar work. It's just a few shifts a week." Adam said around his fork. He swallowed, making sure there wouldn't be any chance either of them would miss what he had to say next. "You might know the club, actually. It's called the Candy Club. Apparently you guys went there."

Dean had been planning to eat and run, to shovel as much food into his face as much as possible and then dash out, get away from Sammy and Adam. He loved his brothers but sometimes with all three of them in the house he could feel himself going crazy. He wanted to go out and get a drink, do something. Maybe drop by and see Misha, see if they could get a drink after the set was finished. He'd been thinking about it for a while and he wanted to do it, he wanted to go out for a bit of fun. There wasn't any way they could really talk at the Club.

He wasn't even listening to Adam, but he did catch those last few words and he almost chocked, spluttering around pasta and barbecue sauce and reaching for his beer, trying to clear his throat before the tears welled up in his eyes. Fuck! How did Adam even know about that place? Dean hadn't known about it until Sam had forced him to go along and Sam only knew about it because he was doing that weird Pervert Course. How did a good kid like Adam find out about a place like that? Had he been there before? Was that where the make-up thing had started? Was that what was confusing him?

He'd have to find out later. Right now he had to deny every accusation and every slur against his masculinity. And in this case, it meant throwing Sammy to the wolves. "Sam!" He said, voice as shocked and appalled as he could manage, "Why the fuck would you be going there?"

"Dean," Sam said, giving his brother a withering look. "You are the worst actor I know."

"Yeah." Adam nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair. "And I know all about you going back and your reserved table and Misha." He grinned. He'd been planning this in his head but seeing Dean squirm was even better than he'd thought it would be. Pay-back for Dean and the way he'd treated Adam in the first place.

Sam raised an eyebrow, evidently surprised. "You went back? You said you hated it. Dean..." He wondered if he really had to tell Dean that Misha was actually a man named Castiel. He thought that Dean had understood that but now he wasn't so sure.

"Shut up!" Dean said, glaring at both of them in turn, getting up so fast that the chair fell backwards and crashed to the floor. "Shut up both of you! Just… just…" He began, unable to find the words, unable to see past the red rage. He grabbed his plate and his beer and he growled at them again. How dare they say he was like them, all weird and with their creepy fetishes. Dean didn't wear make-up and he didn't like guys and he was normal.

"I'm going upstairs. Sam- you can tell Adam that he can't work there." He said, and then he was gone, leaving the kitchen table and stomping up the stairs.

He wasn't up there long.

Only long enough to finish the bottle and pull on a jacket and some shoes. He hadn't got any appetite for food anymore. He needed to go and find Misha and they had to talk. The club wouldn't be open yet and they could talk. They had to talk.

"I'm coming." He shouted, setting down the bottle of nail polish on his bed side table. He was half way through painting one hand a nice shade of silver. He didn't do glitter like Gabriel did. He liked one shade of colour and since he only had one outfit he rotated between white and silver nails. Plain, pretty and they didn't get him hugely strange looks like pink nails would have done. He kept them short as well, not the stick-on talons Gabriel used or Lucifer's claw like blood red nails that he tended to so carefully. He climbed off the bed and padded down the hall. "One minute."

Castiel reached the door, blowing on the wet nails before opening up. "Dean." He gasped. Dean had been the last person he was expecting to see.

"Misha-" Dean began, and then stopped himself. "Cas." He wasn't sure what to call the creature in front of him- clearly male, in jeans and an old t-shirt and not wearing anything Dean had expected to see. But there was the proof that Cas was Misha, and Misha was Cas- the hair, the soft cupid-bow lips and the nails, neat and shining and Dean didn't know why, but he liked those hands.

"Look, we need to talk." He said, giving up on trying to work out what he should be calling the man in front of him. Cas was a man. Cas liked being called Cas. Not Misha. Misha was a stage name. But it was hard to remember that. Misha was the name he'd met the performer under and Misha was the name that came to mind when he thought about...

He didn't think about him. He didn't. Because that was weird. And sort of gay to admit that he might have been thinking about him. Even if he had been sort of thinking of him as more of a... her. It was the hair. And the mouth. No guy had hair or lips like that.

"You should have your hair cut short." He blurted out. And felt better for it. "You'd look less like a girl that way."

Castiel blinked, rather dumbfounded by that.

"Yes, Dean. I would look less like a girl if it was short." He agreed. "Is that what you came over here to tell me?"

Dean frowned, not getting the response he wanted. He needed to fight, god-damn it. Sam would have had a fight with him.

"If you're gay why dress up like a girl? Gay guys don't like girls. It's fucking stupid."

Castiel's frown grew more pronounced at that. "You already know the answer to that question, because I do it for my job. Did you come over here to tell me that you find me disgusting now?" There was always that danger getting involved with straight-acting gay men and Dean seemed strangely wedded to his opinions of what counted for gay and what counted for straight behaviour. "I don't have sex with girls, I want to have sex with men. That's what makes me gay. Not what I wear."

"But I'm not gay! I'm not gay and I like girls so stop dressing like a girl! You're confusing!" Dean bit back, unable to suppress it.

"You're not gay?" Castiel took a step back, shaking his head. "But you came on to me."

"Because you're attractive and you were in a dress!" Dean told him, "What was I meant to think? Look, I'm straight. That's it. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. You need to stop... stop doing all... all this!"

"Doing what? My job?" Castiel asked, hurt. He'd thought Dean liked him, that he was interested in him but apparently Dean didn't see passed the make-up and the hair. "You were the one who was interested in me, Dean. Underneath everything I'm still a man and you were still interested. Maybe you're not as straight as you think."

Dean set his jaw at that. "I am not gay. I am not interested in men, don't you get that?" He said, fingers flexing and he grabbed hold of Castiel, a fist full of the thin t-shirt fabric and pulled him close, eye to eye. He was not interested in Cas. He did not have the urge to kiss him. And even if he did kiss him, he wouldn't like it.

He had to prove that to himself. He had to. Then Cas would see it wasn't Dean's fault. It was everything Cas did to him. So he lent forward, pressing their mouths together, ready to be repulsed. He didn't even care if the door to the apartment was still open and anyone inside might see. He just had to prove to himself that he didn't want this.

Castiel had been expecting a punch, maybe for Dean to push him away but not for Dean to kiss him. His eyes widened and he shoved Dean off him. "What was that? Is that how you prove to yourself that you're not gay?" He asked, honestly frightened about what Dean might do next. Castiel could hold his own in a fight but usually he had had the back up of one of his brothers. He was alone in the apartment now and Dean seemed so angry at him.

Dean let go, letting Cas shove him away, stumbling a step backwards. He'd not expected to like the kiss, he'd not expected to feel anything from it but Cas' lips were soft and warm and a jolt of electricity had flowed through him, the warmth stirring through him and for a moment he just looked at Cas, trying to find the words. "Fuck." Was what he managed to say. It summed it up perfectly.

"Dean, I think you should leave." Castiel said, drawing himself up and trying to force Dean back through the door through a sheer show of will. He couldn't let Dean know he was intimidated by him, frightened of him. It wasn't as if Dean was the first guy who'd ever reacted badly when they realised Castiel wasn't going to give them what they wanted. "We both made a mistake. I think you should go before you make any more mistakes."

"Cas, I-" Dean began, letting the smaller, slighter man force him take another step backwards, still a little startled. "I liked kissing you." He muttered, glancing at the floor and then back at Cas. "I... I liked it. And I think like you. Okay?"

"Dean, I do not want to be messed around by someone who wants to experiment. I'm thirty, I've done that before." Dean might be attractive, nice even when he wasn't yelling and trying to force Castiel to kiss him but that didn't mean Castiel wanted to risk having his heart stomped on when Dean finished having this crisis and went back to women.

"Right." What did he expect? Cas to suddenly melt into his arms and swoon or something? Guys were dicks. He was a dick, Sam was a dick, all Sam's boyfriends had been dicks. What made Cas different? "So you don't think-" He began, something tugging in his chest.

"Don't think what?" Castiel asked, angry now. "You just told me you were straight, didn't you? How would I be anything but an experiment to you?"

"Maybe I was wrong!" Dean said, the anger rising in him again in response to Castiel's own. "There! I was wrong! I don't care if you're not in a dress I still think you're cute! Okay! I liked kissing you!"

"I might have liked it if you'd asked to kiss me first instead of just assuming." Castiel said. He grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders, pushing him up against the open door and pressed their lips together quickly before pulling back. "Did you like that? Do you like being pushed around by another man, Dean?"

With his heart pounding so hard in his chest it was almost impossible for Dean to answer. But he did like it, and he grabbed Castiel around the waist- feeling muscle and sinew there, and kissed him again, not answering but wanting the taste of that kiss again, the anger and the want and the heat throbbing through him.

That hadn't been the reaction Castiel had been expecting and he struggled for a moment against Dean. He'd expected Dean to storm off, to push him away and actually hit him this time but he hadn't been expecting Dean to like it. He'd not expected him to do it again."Dean." He gasped, breaking the kiss. "Dean, the door..." One of his brother's could come back and see him kissing Dean like this, angry and frustrated and wanting. It wasn't something Castiel wanted either Gabriel or Luci to see.

Dean could have asked if he was being invited inside. But he didn't. He pushed off the door, kicking it shut and fuck, Cas was right. Anyone could have heard them, caught them, seen them. But he didn't care. He was forcing his hands up, under Castiel's t-shirt, fingers tracing unfamiliar taut skin, finding those lips again and kissing him hard, unable to get enough.

Castiel was struggling to understand how they'd got from Dean berating him for not being a woman to the point where Dean had his hands up the front of Castiel's shirt and was kissing him like there was no tomorrow. If Dean had had a crisis it seemed to have been a short lived one and Castiel didn't trust that but he was finding it hard to concentrate, melting against Dean under the force of his kiss.

"Dean." Castiel groaned, head tipping back and he buried his fingers in Dean's short hair, fisting it as he fought for composure, Dean's mouth moving down his throat, leaving his lips tingling as the other man's teeth nipped at sensitive skin. It had been so long since he'd let anyone to touch him and even longer since he'd let them get as far as Dean seemed intent on going. "Maybe we should...my bedroom..." He managed, getting a hold of Dean's shoulder to pull him bodily forward. It had been the box room before Lucifer had turned it over to him and he'd stuffed it full of his things so there was hardly room to move but that didn't matter since the bed would be all they were after. He tugged Dean down onto the bed, trying to find a way to catch his mouth again as he did.

The kiss was messy, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues as the both fell onto the mattress, as hungry for it, as caught up in the moment as the teenagers in a crappy chick-flick. But Dean didn't care, and neither did Castiel as they sought a better angle, Dean forcing his way on top of the other and kissing him again.

"Dean. Dean. DEAN." Castiel groaned, pressing up, needing more friction then he was getting. He pushed Dean off him, the bedroom door was still open and he reached out, forcing it closed. "In case anyone comes home." He said breathlessly. He'd never realised before how many doors he needed to keep closed. He never bought men home and Luci never bothered shutting his door.

"In case anyone comes home." Dean repeated, feeling drunk, dizzy but okay with everything and so keen to keep going. "In case they catch us." He added, wanting to prove that he was still in possession of his senses, even if right then all he wanted to do was touch, kiss and keep touching. He was given ample enough opportunity, sliding his hand down Castiel's chest, catching hold of the hem of his shirt and then pushing it up, hand spread out as it moved, caressing as much skin as he could. There was a slight shiver, what Dean took to be anticipation, as Castiel raised his arms, letting Dean force the shirt off and onto the floor. There was no padded bra, not tissue-paper breasts, just the curve of ribs and dark nipples against pale skin, and Dean's hand stilled for just a second and Castiel felt his heart still.

But Dean said nothing, didn't tumble backwards off the bed in disgust. Instead, his thumb gently followed the line of Castiel's ribcage, before moving up to ghost over a nipple, feeling it pebble under his touch. It made a tingle run down his spine and he let his eyes fix on Castiel, leaning down and letting his tongue tease over the nub, flicking against it as Castiel's breath coming out in unsteady, uneven pants , goose-bumps peppering his skin and his muscles tensing in a wave of pleasure. Dean liked the reaction, sealing his mouth around the dark circle, sucking briefly before pulling back, "Like that?" He muttered, getting off on the ego trip as much as anything else, feeling the uncomfortable press of his cock against the front of his jeans.

"Yes." Castiel nodded in affirmation. "I like that, Dean." His voice was rough, low and husky and he bit his lip, uncertain that that wouldn't make Dean bolt. Dean was good with his mouth but Castiel had the feeling he'd gone straight for his chest because that's where he would have gone with a girl. It was working on Castiel though, his body aching with need and arousal and his lower lip swollen from his nervous chewing as well as Dean's kisses.

The deep voice was not what Dean was expecting, and although he liked dirty talk, the words in his throat died when Castiel replied. It was easier to keep his mouth occupied, kissing and nipping at the other's chest, moving down the line of his breast bone. He could already feel Castiel straining, his hips pressing forward and that was sort of, well, terrifying. There was going to have to come a time where he stopped delaying and either ran out the door or did something.

Castiel managed to sense the hesitation, but Dean knew he was broadcasting it loud and clear. "You don't have to do anything you don't want." The blue-eyed man breathed, heart still pounding. "If you want, I can just touch you." He glanced down, the outline of Dean's hard cock evident in his jeans and that at least told him Dean liked some of what was going on.

Clearly that sounded like a much much better idea to Dean. He lent back, hands still at Castiel's hips, looking over that pale expanse of chest and then down at the long fingers- the nail varnish smudged and Dean didn't know why, but he liked that. He liked Castiel with his lips swollen, his hair messed up and his clothes tossed carelessly away. "Yeah... yeah, I'm good with that." He said, lips twisting into a soft smirk, dick twitching with want. "I'm really good with that right now." And Castiel could see the need in Dean, pulling away and settling between Dean's thighs, kneeling on the floor. He reached out and palmed the bulge in those old, faded jeans; Dean's cock was hot and hard and that proved whatever Dean thought he was or thought he liked he could get it with a guy. It only took a moment to free him from his jeans, to pull that aching cock free. Leaning in he pressed his lips to the head of the shaft, butterfly soft.

Dean was watching him, eyes bright, keen. But they closed almost completely as Castiel's hand curled around him, as his breath ghosted over his cock, a long sigh of pleasure leaving his throat, hips bucking up. "Damn, Cas..." He managed, gasping as Castiel's lips closed around the head of his cock.

Castiel liked that reaction, inching closer and taking the rest of the length into his mouth. He should have asked Dean about condoms, about if he had anything but all of this had been so rushed and Castiel knew he was clean. He could only hope that Dean was the same. He bobbed his head, letting Dean's cock slip from between his lips and then taking it back again, the head of Dean's cock brushing the back of his throat.

Dean wanted to watch, wanted to see Cas move, but he couldn't, his head tipping back as a pleasured growl rumbling from his throat. It was impossible not to like this- the heat around him, the friction of Castiel's lips stretched around his cock. He couldn't stop his hips from rolling forward, trying to press deeper, trying to bury himself balls deep and his grip tightened on Castiel's shoulder, nails leaving half-moons in his skin. It hadn't been that long, for him at least, a week or two but he didn't know how long he was going to last long; he could already feel the heat welling in him. But he wanted to drag the inevitable out just that bit longer.

And then Castiel moved again, and Dean couldn't hold himself back any longer, couldn't delay it. It was all he could take, Castiel's mouth around his cock, sucking on him, hot and wet and tight and incredible and "Oh fuck, Cas, I-" Dean began, voice a little broken as his hips bucked up of their own accord, every muscle tightening, his toes curling in his shoes and his breath leaving his body in a half-groan, coming in Castiel's mouth before he could even think of trying to pull himself away.

Castiel gasped, inhaling a mouthful of Dean's come and he pulled away quickly. He made a concerted effort to swallow but he still hadn't been expecting it but he licked at the corners of his lips, aware a trickle had escape down the side of mouth. He glanced up at Dean, still painfully hard himself, unsure what Dean was going to do now – if he was going to leave or what he wanted.

"Dean." He murmured, his throat wrecked, voice gravel deep. He was never going to be able to sing tonight now. Not that he cared much now, not with his own arousal ignored, Dean's eyes fixed on him. Not that Dean seemed aware of the intensity of his gaze, the way his attention was focused on Castiel's flushed face, the way his tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth. It was hot, fucking hot. He didn't know why that surprised him, but there was something about Castiel's voice, the need in it that Dean couldn't resist. He pulled at him, trying to force him up, wanting his hands on Castiel now, hand groping at the straining cock pressing against the front of the man's trousers.

"Dean." Castiel groaned, hips snapping forward, trying to get more of the friction Dean offered him. He didn't want Dean to force himself, didn't want him to regret this but Dean seemed pretty eager and Castiel was just a man. He had needs and wants and it had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that. It was clear Dean knew that need.

There were times when friction just wasn't enough, when you needed more than you were getting. Dean just thought it wast weird to see it in the face of another guy, to feel that want reflected in someone else's expression, in someone else's voice. And while it felt like there was this stiffening in his chest- this sudden fear, he couldn't just stop.

He couldn't.

He moved his hand, forcing Castiel's trousers open, pushing his hand into the sudden heat, Castiel's hard cock so much more real when there was only the thin fabric of his underwear between him and Dean's hand.

Castiel reached out, fingers sliding through Dean's short hair, nails scratching over his scalp as he fought for something to grip on to. He closed his eyes, breathing hard and rocked his hips upwards. "Oh." He gasped, the sound soft in his throat.

This was the definition of gay, more so than letting Cas suck him off or kissing him. Dean couldn't make up an excuse for why he was touching another man's cock but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. The way Cas was moving was sort of addictive- Dean had always liked being the one bestowing or withholding pleasure and it seemed like now was no different. The way Cas clung to him, the urgent movement of his hips made Dean feel half-hard again. He forced Castiel's boxers down the rest of the way then, coiling his fingers around the cock that jutted out, obscenely hard and red, wet at the head, stroking it to coax another groan out of the other man.

"Dean." Castiel gasped again. It felt like the only word he knew how to say, the only word he could remember and he was so frightened that any moment Dean was going to pull away, that he was going to take a good look at what he was doing and who he was doing it with a decide that this wasn't for him. Castiel wanted to hold back, he wanted to be good for Dean so he wouldn't scare Dean away but all he could do was thrust his cock into Dean's hand, needing more from him than nervous fingers.

Dean's fingers found their pace and tighten, jerking at the throbbing cock in his hand. Castiel was beautiful and desperate, he wanted to come and Dean's light touch was only going to tease him and that just wasn't going to hit the spot, no matter how much Castiel writhed up against him. He stroking again, grip firm and his thumb slid over the underside of Castiel's erection, following the line of heat to the head, feeling the slickness there. "Gonna to come for me?" He had to ask, tongue thick in his mouth.

Castiel didn't know how he still had enough blood left to manage a blush with his cock throbbing as hard as it was, demanding all of his attention but he did, his cheeks heating up at Dean's words. He licked his lips, nodding and forced himself to reply, voice hitching as Dean's thumb rubbed across the head of his cock and Castiel felt it all the way inside of him, a deep spike of pleasure. "Yes." He said, fingers clenching and unclenching. "Yes!" He cried out again, his hips thrusting forward and that had been all he'd needed, for Dean to take control and he couldn't hold it any more, coming over Dean's hand in great spurts.

Dean gasped, swallowing down as much air as he could and letting himself feel the lazy heat spread through his limbs for the first time since his own orgasm, wanting to just lie back against the comforter and catch his breath. "So, you liked that, huh?" He asked, uncertain of what to say. He wasn't really a pillow-talk sort of guy, but he guessed he couldn't fasten up his jeans and run away. Even if that was what he felt like doing. Now the rush was over what he'd done was suddenly dawning on him.

Castiel nodded breathlessly, tucking his spent cock back inside his pants and zipping them back up. He suddenly felt strange and exposed and he watched Dean's face, trying to calculate his next move. He didn't feel anything but nervous now. The orgasm had done nothing to take the edge off. He sunk down onto his bed beside Dean, thumbing at the edge of the bedspread. "What happens now?" He asked, licking his lips, still able to taste the other man on them and he tried to plot what had had happened back in his head but when he unravelled it it didn't make sense. He'd just been caught up in the moment, caught up in Dean.

Dean didn't know what to say, the smile he'd worn falling slightly. But as Castiel moved against him, Dean couldn't help but move and curl his arm around him, pulling him close. It was a movement he was used to, pulling whatever girl he had spent his night with up against him, feeling sleep pull at him. But he didn't feel sleepy right now, no matter how good Castiel felt pressed against him.

He swallowed, tongue moving over his dry lips, "That depends... how long till you're on stage?"

"In a few hours." Castiel murmured, he'd need to drink a few glasses of water and rest up a bit before then. "I shouldn't have done that." He added, annoyed by how wrecked he sounded and he knew that was because of Dean, because of getting on his knees for Dean but he'd wanted to at the time. It had seemed like a good idea. Now he wasn't so sure.

"I meant afterwards, Dean. You and me…what happens next?" He repeated the question again, needing to know what the answer was. He'd always been good. He'd always been in a relationship before he had sex and he'd never had wild, unprotected sex with a man who professed to hate things about him. Or at least he hadn't before Dean Winchester.

"You've been tested, haven't you?" He asked, trying to make it sound casual and failing.

Dean blinked at the ceiling, deciding not to look at Castiel for that moment. He heard the mutter, the distinct regret in the way the other male lay next to him, sort of rigid on the sheets. Dean couldn't help him. He'd had moments like this before. Slept with the wrong person, at the wrong time. Never with a guy though. That was a new one.

And okay, he knew about testing. Normally though, protection was enough, wasn't it? "Er-" He began, cursing himself that he didn't sound more confident about it. "I- Not for a while." He admitted, glancing at Castiel and meeting those big blue eyes again. He had condoms. He always had some, stuffed into his wallet. He just hadn't thought about them. And this was Cas' bedroom. He must have had stuff there. If he wanted more-

Dean shut his eyes, finding it near impossible to believe where his mind had just ventured, almost without him realising. He was not about to have sex with a guy. Jerking off and blow jobs were one thing, but sex was something else. He wasn't ready for that.

"We didn't use anything when I…" Castiel said, chewing at his bottom lip, searching for a delicate way to put it but eventually there wasn't any better term them just the outright truth. "When I blew you. And I swallowed." He looked up at Dean, willing him to suggest that he get himself tested so Castiel didn't have to go through the embarrassment of suggesting it for him. Castiel always went, every six months, even if he wasn't with anyone just to check, just to be certain. He'd make an appointment now for a check-up a little sooner than he was due.

Dean had ignored his earlier question, purposefully misunderstood it and Castiel knew what that meant. It meant that Dean went home and chalked this up to being Castiel's fault because he'd confused him and then Dean stopped coming around. Already Castiel was curling away from Dean, feeling used by him. He'd thought when Dean had touched him it meant something, maybe that it meant Dean was getting over his fear but that didn't seem to be the case at all.

"Cas!" Dean said, rolling his eyes privately as the boy moved away from him, curled into himself with his back against Dean's side and that wasn't fair. This was a big thing, a big thing for Dean anyway, what did Cas expect? A proposal? That just wasn't going to happen. Dean had to have time, needed time to feel more like himself and to know what was happening. He needed to understand what he'd just done.

He sighed, gently. He wasn't going to make the situation any better if he freaked out. He'd known what he was doing, he had to deal with it. "Sorry Cas, I should have thought about that. I got... I got sort of caught up in the moment." He managed, hand moving to stroke Castiel's side. This was like a scene from some fucking rom-com or chick flick but maybe that was the way these things were meant to go. Not that he knew how these things happened. He didn't watch chick flicks.

"Look... maybe, if you've got a couple of hours... why don't we get washed up and... I don't know, go grab something to eat? Together?" He offered.

Castiel relaxed a little as Dean touched him. He didn't want to be so easy, but he liked the way Dean touched him. He closed his eyes even so and forced out the words stuck in the back of his throat. As good as dinner might sound, as good as that hint of a future Dean was offering him sounded, he couldn't just allow himself to roll over and get caught up in Dean.

"Would you get tested?" He said, opening his eyes to fix them on the wall in front of him, not looking back at Dean because he couldn't. He couldn't let himself just roll over and do what Dean would want, take the easy way out without facing facts.

"Yeah, of course I'll get tested." Although why it was such a huge deal for Castiel Dean didn't know. Dean would know if he wasn't clean, right? These things were noticeable. But he'd go to a clinic. There wasn't any harm in it. And if he wanted to see Cas again...

He stopped, and blinked, glancing side-long at the other's back for a moment. Dean knew what he was. He was a relaxed, casual, once-was-great-thanks kind of guy. A straight sort of guy.

But seeing Castiel again, offering to take him out to dinner, none of that was straight. But... well, he guessed he didn't really care. Sam and Adam didn't have to know.

He shifted then though, moving closer to the slimmer man's back, coiling an arm around his middle. He would have thought Castiel was the cuddling type. Cute gay guys liked that, or so he assumed, and he was sure Cas was no different.

It was such a simple thing to say. A very easy thing to say, an easier thing to lie about but Castiel didn't think Dean was lying. He meant it, that he'd go to a clinic and get tested, like he'd been asked. Like Castiel had asked, because it meant something. Castiel rolled over, winding his arms around Dean's shoulders, hesitating only a moment before he kissed him. He didn't know if Dean was going to be the sort of man who got upset with the idea of kissing someone who'd just gone down on him but Castiel was going to chance it. But Dean didn't pull away, only making a small, startled noise before kissing back.

Castiel almost didn't believe it. And as much as he didn't' believe it, he didn't want it to stop, but even so, he wasn't finished with Dean just yet. "We will have to use condoms until the results came back." He said, drawing away and licking his lips thoughtfully. He held his hands up, frowning. "And I've got to do my nail polish again, Dean."

Dean had to go eventually, before Cas' brothers got back. Besides, he'd been gone long enough for Sam and Adam to start leaving voice-mail on his phone- and while Adam still sounded pissed enough not to really care where Dean had got to, Sammy was beginning to sound more and more frantic. He'd given them enough time anyway, enough time to cool their heels and apologise to him that Dean felt it was time to go home now. He left the Impala outside in it's usual space and headed in, trying to wipe the satisfied grin off his face and keep the swagger out of his walk, opening the front door as quietly as he could and slipping off his coat. If his brothers still thought he was pissed off with them then the apology they'd make would be even better.

After all, Adam didn't need a job. He especially didn't need to work in a bar. In a weird fetish club either. Whatever Dean and Cas just had, or hadn't done, didn't change the fact that it wasn't the place for Adam. No way, no how.

Adam was sitting on the stairs, head in his hands and he frowned at Dean when he opened the door. "Where have you been? Sam's been worried sick about you. He's made me sit here and keep watch for you." He turned round and shouted up the stairs. "SAM! He's back!"

A moment later Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, sighing in relief as he saw Dean down at the bottom of the stairs. "I've been calling you. Did you have your phone off?" He asked, frowning as he came down the stairs, shoving Adam aside so he could look at Dean properly. "Are you still upset? Adam and I have been talking about the job offer he got."

"Yeah, we have." Adam said, standing up.

"And he's going to take the job." Sam finished, watching Dean's face worriedly.

Dean stepped back far enough to look at Adam, and then Sam, his jaw tightening. They were assholes, both of them. He should have been aware of all of this, should have known. They'd not apologise, but they'd make plans as soon as his back as turned, conspiring against him. And he'd been sure they'd feel guilty. But he didn't have the energy to be angry just then. He couldn't fight anymore. "Yeah? Great." He said, as sarcastically as he could. He didn't want Adam at the Candy Club. Even if it might give him more excuses to see Cas. "Whatever I say isn't going to change anything, I guess. So when do you start? Need a lift?"

"Monday." Adam said. He glanced across at Sam, not convinced by Dean's sudden change of heart. "No, it's fine. I can get myself in." He said, turning and head back up the stairs. Whatever Dean was thinking Adam didn't care. He was going to do what he wanted and Dean would just have to accept that.

Sam waited until Adam was out of sight before he spoke. "What's this about, Dean? Where did you go? I was expecting at least some sort of fight." He frowned slightly, holding his hands up. "Don't think I'm not happy that you're not fighting this but this isn't you." He sniffed the air, his frown deepening. "You haven't been drinking."

Dean glanced at Sam, raising an eyebrow as his other brother sniffed at him, the expression on his face less than pleased. The sniffing thing was sort of gross, and maybe if Sam didn't smell booze, he'd smell sex and that was a conversation Dean didn't feel like having either. "Thanks. I could have told you that."

He slipped past his brother, towards the kitchen. He had been going to get a beer but decided against it, stepping into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out the fridge. "I just went for a walk. You know, outside. Clear my head." He said, although he doubted Sam would believe that either, but maybe he'd drop the subject.

"And I'm not happy with him working there. Or working in any bar. But he's old enough, and if he wants to do it, he can do it." He said, before taking a long swallow from the water bottle and letting his gaze rest on Sam. "We did enough stuff Dad hated, and we're okay. Maybe it will do him good. I caught him putting on makeup the other day."

"Yes, he mentioned that." Sam said, running a hand through his hair and following Dean into the kitchen. "Do we have to have a word about what's appropriate and what's not when it comes to things you say to Adam?" He didn't really want to deal with this, not to have to patch up another argument between his two brothers but Sam couldn't exactly let Dean make Adam feel unwanted or worse, as if there was something wrong with him. "Maybe you should come and sit in on my lectures?" He suggested. "You might learn something, Dean." Even though Sam was certain that invitation was going to be turned down straight away he still made it. It was better to reach out to Dean. He just needed a little bit of time, Sam was sure. Eventually he'd get used to it like he'd got used to the fact that Sam went out with both guys and girls.

"I'd say the same to you if you were the one I caught putting on make-up." Dean had to point out. He wasn't going to treat Adam like a special snow-flake because he was the youngest or because they didn't share a mother. Adam was his brother, so was Sam, and he treated them the same way. Or at least he thought he did. Maybe he was a little more conscious of Sam, if only because he'd known him all his life, he'd always been there to look after him, he knew what buttons to press and how to manipulate him. He didn't know Adam quite so well. Not yet anyway.

But even if he would have said the same thing if he'd found Sam trying on make-up and not Adam, it didn't matter. He sighed, and leaned back against the counter, looking at his brother and setting the water down. "You know I can't take time off, Sammy. And I wouldn't get half of what your professors talk about. But thanks for the offer."

"Look... I didn't mean to upset Adam. I just... it's weird. I know you don't think so, but it is." He said, and then memories of Cas filled his head, sent a trail of comforting warmth down his spine that seemed to pool in his soul. "But he's not hurting anyone, and I get it. If he wants to, that's fine. I just don't want him to get hurt. Kate will kill us if he does."

"Yeah," Sam said, patting Dean on the shoulder. He hadn't expected his brother to say anything different but even so it still hurt a bit. Dean could have taken a chance to grow but in the end Sam knew he preferred staying ignorant.


End file.
